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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

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Blackpink Reaction To Their S/O Struggling W/ Drug Addiction

Warnings / Misc. -- ⚠️ Sensitive Topic ⚠️, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! This request covers a sensitive topic that I haven't been personally exposed to, but I hope that I do it justice. I did my best to handle it with care and be as realistic as possible. Let me know what you think!

PS -- I didn't specifically name any substances or describe them in too much detail; I wanted to leave you room to picture whatever you had in mind, especially if you happen to be struggling irl.

👩 Also, I wrote this as Fem!Reader because nothing was specified. I hope that's alright, anon! Thank you for your patience :)

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jisoo

Discovered it after a few weeks of dating

She's amazing at reading people, so she had sensed that you were struggling with something; she just didn't know what.

She wanted to wait for you to tell her about whatever it was, but one fateful day she witnessed something that explained it all.

It wasn't meant to happen; she wasn't meant to see you like this. But, as fate would have it, Jisoo stumbled across something she never saw coming.

Her footsteps grow louder as she walks her way through the house, peeking her head into various rooms in search of you. The two of you invited some of your mutual friends over, and they've all been curious as to where you slipped away to earlier.

"Baby, are you in here? Everyone's wonder--"

The sound of the latch clicking out of place makes your heart drop and sets you into motion. Before you have enough time to fully react, though, Jisoo opens the bathroom door to find you sitting on the ground, attempting to shove a foreign substance into a plastic baggy.

Your hands make quick work of moving it out of view and sitting up on your knees, but she picks up on what's going on. Her eyes land on the material as you shift it behind your body, looking up at her with wide eyes.

"Jisoo--" Tears are already beginning to work their way into your eyes, slightly blurring your vision. Too many people have walked out on you after witnessing this, and the thought that she might go too is overwhelming.

She keeps her tone level as she steps into the room and quietly shuts the door behind herself. "Y/N, please explain yourself."

"I-I'm sorry Jisoo, I should've told you sooner." You shakily say, bringing a hand up to swipe away the few tears that've already leaked out. It's not usually like you to get so emotional so quickly, but seeing the pained look on her face is reason enough.

"Come here," she utters, plopping down next to you and pulling you up against her body as she leans back on the side of the tub. Her fingers rub soothing circles on your back while you rest your head on her shoulder, lightly dampening the material of her shirt with your tears. "I'm not mad at you for this, but I need you to tell me about it. I want to help you, my love. I can't watch you hurt yourself like this."

"Okay. Just promise you won't go," you softly say, the syllables of your words breaking here and there from the raw emotion you feel.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/N." She presses a light kiss to your temple for reassurance, and her heart breaks when she feels your hands grip at her clothes out of habit. How many times have people told you that and still left you in your time of need? She cradles you in her arms, realizing just how fragile you are in your current state, and tells you to take your time.

With a steadying breath, you begin to explain your struggles.

Road To Recovery

Constant check-ins

"Hey honey, we're at the studio now. Are you taking care of yourself for me?"

Helps you deal with the symptoms of withdrawal when they hit

Focuses on distraction and redirection as ways to help you cope

If you're at a party and feel tempted after seeing someone use, she leads you away to distract you from the urge

Helps you find safe alternatives

Celebrates the little victories

"Yes, Y/N, 4 and a half weeks clean is plenty reason to celebrate. Now mark it on the calendar and get over here so I can put this hat on you."

Playdates at your local dog café to keep your mind occupied (and bringing Dalgomie so he can make new friends, of course)

Takes you indoor skydiving. She wanted to find a way to give you an adrenaline rush while still being able to participate with you, so that was a happy medium. She battled her fear of heights to do that with you.

Not letting you lose hope if you relapse

"You're not a burden, and I'm not letting you give up on yourself. Not after all the progress you've made. I believe in you."

Accompanying you to rehab and recovery meetings, if you want her to

Bringing you your favorite snacks and candies when she picks you up

"I got you a little something," she smiles, leaning over the center console of the car to kiss your cheek. "You deserve a treat, baby."

Whenever you decide to tell everyone about your struggles and recovery journey, she's right next to you for support

Spends all the time she can with you

Early on, she would get really worried when you missed her calls or took a while to respond, but eventually she got over her fears to some degree

Still checks up on you when she's away for work

"Sorry for missing your call, Chu. Dalgom tried to kill me when I was giving him a bath and I couldn't get to the phone in time."

Overall, just a very proud girlfriend who sticks by you no matter what

After You've Recovered

Annual "recovery party" to commemorate your sobriety

Sometimes you invite the girls and your other friends, and sometimes you prefer to just spend the day at home with Jisoo

"Look at how far you've come, my love. I'm so proud of you."

♡♡♡♡♡

Jennie

She would be the only one who figured it out on her own. She picked up on the signs fairly quickly and always subtly helped steer you away from any potentially tempting situations

If you two watched a movie that happened to have a triggering scene in it, she always noticed how you'd look away and subconsciously tense up a bit

"Hey, babe. This movie's kinda boring; why don't we watch that new Netflix documentary instead?"

If the two of you were invited to parties that were likely to have a bunch of alcohol and drugs, sometimes she'd try to suggest staying in or doing something else instead

You eventually caught on to her diversion attempts, and sat down with her to have a talk.

"How long have you known?" You ask, pulling your legs up towards your chest as you sit back against the headboard of your California King.

"A few weeks," she starts, running a brush through her hair until it's untangled. Her damp locks stick to her shoulders as she approaches you, some strips slightly drier than others. "Were you ever gonna tell me?" She inquires softly, facing you as she sits down beside you on the bed.

"Of course, Jen. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner, I just… I was on my own with it before you. I didn't have anyone to turn to because everyone left once they found out." Your confession makes her chest ache -- it's a physical, honest pain that she feels as she imagines you battling such an unforgiving foe with no one in your corner. She places a warm hand on your thigh to comfort you, knowing just how much her touch helps when you're upset. "Hey, it's okay. There's no point in worrying about that now. I know it's hard to open up, babe, so thank you for doing this. I'm here to listen, alright?"

"Thank you, Jennie. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to know, either, because I'm staying right here."

"I love you," you whisper, leaning forward to press a kiss to her lips.

"I love you, too," she sighs against you, preparing herself for the emotional night you're about to have. For now, she takes a moment to just pull you into her arms and rest her forehead against yours, finding comfort in your steady heartbeat.

"We'll start whenever you're ready."

Road To Recovery

Makes various arrangements to ensure that the media won't know of your struggles

Keeps things on lock, especially if you decide to remain private on the matter and not tell the world

If you make a public statement about it, she still does everything she can to keep you protected from the negativity. She knows first hand how tough it can be to deal with, so she never lets you face it alone

You both help each other work through things

"You're my rock, Y/N/N."

"And you're my world, Jen."

Takes care of you during bouts of withdrawal

Sings to you to calm you down and help you relax

Takes you to theme parks and rides all the big coasters with you so you can get a similar high that you did from the drugs. She gets to be clingy with you and spend the day having fun, so she doesn't mind it, and you enjoy it just the same.

Suggests fun activities for you to do together

"We should visit that pottery place tomorrow! I've heard a lot of good things about it."

You stick close together when you're in public, especially when paparazzi are near

Your presence helps with her anxiety, and you hold her close and tell jokes to keep her attention off of it

Random surprise celebrations waiting for you when you get home

"Hey Jen, I'm home." You announce, shrugging your coat off before hanging it up on the metal rack next to the front door.

"In here," she calls from the kitchen, effectively pulling you in with that sweet voice of hers. When you reach the doorway and peek in, a dumbstruck smile slowly parts your lips as you see the set up she constructed.

"Happy 3 Weeks" a multicolored banner reads, displaying the phrase above your dining room table where Jennie sits. "Surprise, honey," she says softly, glancing down at the cake she made for you as she scoots it closer. You approach the table and examine it, practically feeling your heart grow 10 sizes from the love you hold for your girlfriend.

"Is this why you left practice early?"

"Mhm," she nods, kissing your cheek before she reaches into a small gift bag next to her chair. "I'm so proud of you," she grins, sliding a thin, glittery headband into your hair. It has two springs attached to the top that bounce in every direction possible, surely making you look like a dork.

"God, I love you."

"You'd better keep that same energy after trying the cake. I think I might've added too much baking soda…"

You shake your head and pull her in, pressing kiss after kiss to her lips until she's grinning just as hard as you.

Going on adventures with Kuma and Kai

Especially to dog parks and other national parks

Helps you fill things out for rehab and doesn't let you get too stressed about it

Helps you regain confidence in yourself if you relapse

"This isn't the end, Y/N. You're strong, I know you can beat this."

Is right next to you through it all

After You've Recovered

Go on an annual vacation to get away from everything and celebrate your sobriety. You take the opportunity to escape the media and reconnect with each other

"Where to this year, Y/N? Bora Bora, maybe?"

Intimate celebration between the two of you on vacation, and then the girls throw you a party when you come back

♡♡♡♡♡

Rosé

You were really good at hiding your secret from people -- especially those that you care about most. You're always afraid that once they find out, they'll pack up and leave.

Rosé was one of the first to actually stay

She had been fairly oblivious to your struggles since you masked that side of yourself well, but one day the two of you attended a little get-together at your old friend's house, and your dirty laundry was aired.

"Bro, come on, let's play Truth or Dare!" One of your old friends says, perking up at the fact that he remembered the game even existed. He's already a little tipsy, but so are some of the others.

"I don't know, dude," you hesitantly start, missing the way that Rosé curiously raises a brow beside you.

"Come on, we'll keep it tame." Another person adds from the couch opposite you, their voice low. You recognize her as Cho, a sort of frenemy from your high school years. Something doesn't sit right for you with the hint of mischief that shines in her eyes, but your friends' pleas eventually push the feeling away and you relent.

"Fine, but if Austin gets dared to do some dumb shit like last time I'm dropping out."

"Like what?"

"Like what?" You ask back, disbelief evident in your voice. "Are you forgetting the fact that I had to bail you out after you got arrested for streaking down the neighborhood?"

"Okay, fair point," Austin holds his hands up in surrender. "Just a few rounds."

As everyone's once boisterous laughter finally dies down into quiet chuckles, you turn to Rosé for a quick kiss. She reciprocates and holds you there for a few more seconds, loving the way your lips feel against her own. As you brush your nose against hers and garner a sweet giggle from her, Cho interrupts the moment with a phrase that makes your blood run cold.

"So, Rosé, has Y/N told you about the time she got arrested for drug possession? Word on the street is that she still can't shake her old habit..."

Rosie feels the way you tense up at the question and pull away from her, cringing at the exposure you just received. The room goes silent, enabling a pen to be heard if it were dropped.

"Hey," Austin goes to defend you, about to yell at her for bringing up such a difficult topic.

"It's fine, Austin," you say, sticking your hand out in front of him to keep him from approaching her. The last thing you want right now is a screaming match about your struggles.

Rosie finally speaks up after what feels like an eternity, turning to Cho to say, "No, but that's none of your business. And I strongly advise that you don't speak on her name like that again." She cuts her eyes at the other girl, sending an icy glare at her to show that she's serious before giving her attention to you again.

When a few tense moments pass with no one really saying anything, Jackson, the host, speaks up. "I think you need to go, Cho."

"Ah, what a shame. The fun was just starting," she mockingly pouts, stopping next to you on her way out the door. Rosé strokes the back of your hand to soothe you, tracing mindless patterns with her thumb until your shoulders relax and you look into her eyes. With Cho now gone, your friends decide to go out into the backyard and give the two of you some time to clear things up.

"So, I guess we should talk." You start, pulling your legs up onto the couch to sit criss-cross. She studies the way that you begin to nervously fidget and drop eye contact, and the sight breaks her heart.

"Your past is your past, Y/N, and I won't ever judge you for it. I wish she wouldn't have brought it up like that -- I really wish she didn't," she says, emphasizing the word to remind you of how upset she is with Cho, "But I can tell that you're still struggling. I want to help you get better, and I'll be here with you every step of the way, babe. You mean the world to me." She smiles sadly, trying not to think of how much it would hurt to lose you.

"Okay," you breathe out, accepting the honest help that she's extending to you. You've been burned and lied to in the past, but you trust Rosé to stay true to her word and assist you on the hard journey laid out before you. "Let's start from the beginning," you say, preparing yourself to retell your struggles from the moment they began all those years ago.

Road To Recovery

Takes care of you when withdrawal hits hard

Isn't afraid to take the day off if it's bad enough and she needs to

"Hey, Teddy. Tell everyone that I'll be staying home today, okay? I've already let the girls know, too."

Reassurance to the max

"You're doing amazing."

Is your shoulder to cry on when times get tough

On a weekend trip, the two of you snuck away to the beach to go cliff diving. It was a thrilling experience, and you'll always remember that day with her

Helps you find healthier alternatives to your addiction that can make the transition easier until you fully recover

"Baby, look at this." She says, repositioning her laptop so that you can see what she's looking at. The two of you are sitting on the bed, and her legs are stretched out over yours. "These herbs are safe to smoke and they can help with a lot of your troubles. These over here," she says, pointing to a section of the screen, "help with stress and anxiety. They make it easier to relax." You nod, logging the information in your brain as you run a hand over her smooth skin to keep yourself calm. It's a habit that both of you love. "Thank you, Rosie. Nobody's ever done anything like this for me." You say, keeping your head down as you remember all the people that have left you behind in your time of need.

"You'd do the same for me, and I'm happy to be here for you." She declares, holding one of your hands within both of her own. She cradles it delicately, just like she does your heart. "I'll do whatever it takes to make you feel my love. I'm not going anywhere, babe." She leans in, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss.

Keeps your spirits up if you relapse

"You're not a failure, Y/N/N. This is just a setback, and we're going to get through it together."

One of her friends told her about a fun art class that's supposed to help people in recovery let go of some of their resentment and negative feelings, so she brought it up and you agreed to go

It was structured in two parts:

Part 1: Everyone went out to an old car lot that had various old vehicles, electronics, and other things to smash up. Once you let loose and relieved some of your tension, you collected scraps of the things you destroyed.

Part 2: With the scraps you brought back, you were told to create any type of artwork you wanted -- whatever felt right. Collage, graffiti, scrapbook, etc. At the end of the class, you were informed of the driving message behind it: Though the negative feelings and aversions you dealt with in the past may have left you feeling broken, you never really were -- you've always had the power to piece yourself back together and continue on.

After You've Recovered

Taking a month off work every year to travel and experience new things together. Usually consists of going to another city (or even country) and exploring their art museums and other artistics outlets

The new experiences help remind you off all the reasons you want to stay sober, and they help her have new material for her songs

Lots of pictures and drawings to remember all of your adventures

Collect trinkets to hang up / display, especially around the holidays

The girls have a special celebration waiting for you when you return

♡♡♡♡♡

Lisa

She could tell something was wrong when your behavior started to change over the course of a couple weeks

She suspected other things, but after finding a substance in your bag while on a vacation trip, she was blind sided by the reality of the situation

"Hey Lis, have you seen my swimsuit?" You casually ask, strolling into your hotel bedroom in search of the item. "I thought I left it--"

Your words catch harshly in your throat, nearly making you choke from how quickly you cut yourself off. She's sitting on the edge of the bed with the baggy in her hands, and tears brim in her eyes.

"Fuck," you wince, closing your eyes as you put your face in your hands. "You weren't supposed to find out like this."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asks, staring straight ahead, though her eyes don't focus on anything in particular. Knowing you hurt her is bad enough, but seeing her like this makes the pain even more evident.

"I was going to, I promise. But I've been trying to wean myself off of it," you begin to explain, slowly walking across the room until you're in front of her. You squat down and put your hands on her thighs, staying quiet until she meets your gaze. "I've tried to quit cold turkey in the past but it didn't go down well. I figured I could handle this on my own and not get you involved."

"Baby, I want to be involved. You've been different lately, and having you shut me out didn't help ease my fears. I want to be a part of this, okay? You can turn to me when you feel alone," she says through the occasional tears that roll down her cheeks, "It's my job to help you and keep you safe. So let me," she crouches down next to you as she says the last part, wrapping her arms around you when she notices your lip tremble. "I'm not gonna let this get between us," she says against your shoulder, reminding you of how strong her love for you is.

"I'm sorry I waited so long," your words are muffled against her shirt, but she can hear how the emotion in them changes your voice slightly.

"We have to start somewhere, and this is just as good a time as any. I'm right here, Y/N/N."

Road To Recovery

Sweet texts and reminders throughout the day

"Hey baby, have you eaten today? The girls and I miss you like crazy."

"Don't forget about your check-up tomorrow. I already told my manager that I'll be taking the day off, so I'm all yours 😉"

"*image attachment* Question: Do you think Lego would look cute in this or do you think Lego would look cute in this? Because he WOULD."

Stargazing trips to talk about how far you've come

Making treats for the cats together if you have a bad day

Sometimes your withdrawal leaves you with weird cravings, but she never hesitates to race to the store at any hour and snatch up your favorite treats

Learning how to cook together to keep you occupied and give you a hobby (plus she's always wanted to get better at it)

“If you fling that at me, I swear to God I'll--”

"Oops!"

"LISA!"

Day trips to random parks and open locations to have little photoshoots when she has free days

Once took you bungee jumping for the experience and adrenaline rush

Bringing you into the studio if you're having a hard time and don't want to be alone

Always listens to you and shows how much she cares

Opts out of events if she suspects that drugs will be there to tempt you (considering you're always her plus one)

You still send her to enjoy herself at the events without you sometimes, though it does take a lot to convince her to leave you at home

"Okay, okay! But we're binging that new show when I get back."

Makes you laugh often and cheers you up when you need it most

She's your sunshine

After You've Recovered

Considering that you're her muse and she's the artist that she is, she hatched a plan early on to document your journey to recovery

"One more, babe. Just like that." She instructs, holding the camera up to her eye one final time. "Perfect."

"Alright, close your eyes and turn around." She commands while returning to the coffee table that sits in the middle of your living room. Her hands make quick work of putting the finishing touches on her gift for you while you patiently sway and hum to whatever song is stuck in your head at the moment.

"Annnnnd done!" She shouts, approaching you with a wide smile tugging at her lips as she holds the book out in front of herself. "It's a photo album. I started it the day you told me you wanted to try and get better," she says, smiling softly as she slowly walks you through the beginning pages of the book. "I thought it would be nice to see how far you've come," her eyes remain glued to the pictures she took as she continues flipping, and she fails to realize that you're staring at her now.

"I'm so in love with you. I can't thank you enough, Lis. This is beautiful." You shake your head in quiet disbelief, genuinely surprised that someone would work so hard on something for you. It shouldn't be a surprise with her though, considering how much she loves you, but it still baffles you sometimes.

"This gift only shows a fraction of my love for you, but I'm happy you like it. This is nothing, baby; there's so much more where this came from. Thank you for letting me in." She captures your lips in a meaningful kiss, and finds it hard to pull away. You seem to be her drug of choice, but neither of you care to end that sweet addiction.

Annual trips to photoshoots and fashion shows

Being her favorite model (seriously, she could look at you for hours on end)

Always feeling so loved and cherished, no matter what the two of you are doing

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gamerdamemedia · 3 years

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Test Case

So, for a couple weeks now I made a fatal mistake for all fanfic writers: I watched something different that inspired a story idea, & I haven’t been able to get it out of my head & distracting me from other things. So, as I write to exorcise ideas from my head to make space, I decided to put pen to paper this afternoon... or fingers to keyboard, I guess, & write some of it out. Not sure I’ll actually ever share it, as it might stay just my personal pet project, but I figured I could at least share the start. Even writers needs a little side project just for their own enjoyment. Now that studying is done & I’m back from vacation, hopefully I can get back to some regular schedule. I’ve been out of sorts during this crunch time before the big test.

In the grand scheme of the cosmos, freezing to death while drifting along the Etherium wasn't the worst way to go. She could think of many worse ways to die after being spaced. She could fall into the vacuum of space and suffocate, or stray too close to a star and get pulled in by its gravitational force to burn up, sucked into a black hole, or starve (or more likely die from dehydration). But it seemed fate had seen fit to deal her a slightly kinder hand. A hand that still said she was screwed, but only in the gentlest way. With fancy silk sheets and plenty of lubrication.

She would've laughed, but that would exacerbate the splitting headache she already had, so she settled for a chuff. Clearly the delirium of losing core body heat was setting in.

It seemed a rather appropriate bookend to her story, short though it may be. Fitting that her last memory should be bobbing freely along the Etherium waves to wherever they deigned to take her, as it was also her earliest. Gazing up at the endless, twinkling abyss, she could almost imagine the hard wooden deck of her grandfather's old longboat beneath her back. Or maybe the rough fabric of his overalls, with the button that always seemed to poke her in her shoulder blade as she reclined against his portly torso. She smiled to herself then. That's a nice thought, she said to herself, letting her head drift back, supported by nothing but the lack of gravity. It was almost enough to fight off the creeping chill that raced ahead of the numbness as her limbs stopped receiving vital blood. She'd always ridden the waves as they came, be them Etherium or fate, letting them take her where they willed. Why should the end be any different? "A man's heart devises his way, but fate directs his steps," her grandfather would say. Smart man, for just a farmer.

The irony wasn't lost on her, even as her brain began to sluggishly flit around poorly connected thoughts. The woman who always had an escape plan, always left a way out... Lady Luck had robbed her of her one vice. Not that she hadn't tried. It was getting out that had landed her in this situation in the first place. She'd booked passage on a small transport ship out of the Calyn Abyss to... actually, she didn't remember where the vessel was enroute to. Away, was all that mattered. A deal had turned particularly sour, and she needed to disappear in hurry. With enough money in the right hands and a vessel about to pull out of port, nobody asked questions. She'd stepped onto that dock as Absence, and left as Tammy Righte.

Things had been going well, until a bit of turbulence from a passing comet had caused some sort of electrical malfunction. As the transport rocked and swayed, the occupants had tied their lifelines, hoping to ride out the waves. That was when everything started blowing. Something must've shorted, creating a fire below deck. She remembered people screaming as the deck shook. A particularly violent blast caused the ship to tilt and lurch, bucking like a mad bonzabeast, throwing her from the deck. She remembered feeling weightless as she escaped the protective sphere of the ship's artificial gravity. The last thing she remembered was something metallic from the ship hitting her squarely in the face before blacking out.

When she woke an unknown amount of time later, she found herself adrift in space, far from anything to save herself with. Her face ached something fierce, and she'd touched it to feel blood. Without gravity, it couldn't really pour, but she felt it oozing with each pounding pulse of her heart, trickling along her face whenever she turned her head.

Despite the name, one couldn't swim through Etherium currents like water. You went wherever they took you. The knock from the ship had sent her essentially careening through space, and she'd keep going that way thanks to the lack of friction unless something intervened. Not wanting to die, as any warm-blooded being wouldn't, she'd tried to find some way to stop or change her course. But she wasn't near anything. Eventually, hypothermia started to set in, and her limbs became too leaden to move. At that point, she'd resigned herself to her fate. Why die tired?

She reached up a hand to wipe the blood trickling in the corner of her eye, but her aim was sloppy due to not being able to feel her hands anymore. Don't spend your last moments thinking about such things, she told herself. Shouldn't her last moments be happy?

Relaxing back into the Etherium, she went back to imagining herself on her grandfather's boat, bobbing along. They'd spent many a'night floating aimlessly in the sky, the green plains of her home rolling peacefully below them in the breeze. As a little girl, she would sometimes lean out over the side of the longboat, so far her grandfather would have to pull her back to stop her from falling. She'd giggle as he tickled her, tucking her safely to his chest. "Tryin' to fly away, little bird?" he'd ask. "Ya' too young for that, yet." Some nights, if the weather was clear, he'd teach her about the different stars and planets. He'd tell her tales about his brief stint in the Navy, or some adventure from his wild youth-- sometimes they'd even be true! Other times, they'd fall asleep drifting, only to wake up in some random place and go on an "adventure" to get back home. Basic navigational and map-reading skills were an essential pick up. He liked to pretend he was teaching her, but she knew better. Man couldn't find his way out of room with a single door some days.

Her favorite nights, though, were when he'd pull out his old harmonica and play for her. On particularly clear, cool nights like this, his tune would be slow, the notes dragging on for long periods before warbling, bobbing like the waves. She always felt like she was rising and falling in time with the tune. Her hand came up to rest on her breast pocket. Despite not having feeling in her fingers anymore, she knew the harmonica was still safe within. She felt its outline pressing into her chest. Briefly, she thought to take it out and play one final song on the old instrument in memorial, but with her hands as they were, she wouldn't be able to play. And she didn't want to lose it. So, she settled for letting her hand rest there, taking comfort in its presence over her heart.

Everything felt heavy now, to the point she almost expected to start sinking. The organ beneath her hand was beginning to slow as it lost the fight to keep her warm. Non-vital organs would start shutting down soon.

She forced her mind back to more times with her grandfather, this time on land. "Don't think you're too good to put your hands to hard work, little bird," he'd tell her... usually while making her do something around the farm he didn't want to do. Chasing down some ornery creature that didn't want to be hemmed up, most likely. Or time spent fishing at Mrs. Neelie's pond. She didn't actually like to fish, didn't have the patience for it, but she always went to watch him. She swore, her grandfather could be in the middle of an ocean, miles from anything else, and still manage to get snagged on something. Or there was the time he tripped coming down the hill and nearly knocked old Mrs. Neelie into the pond. She'd had to sit down, she'd laughed so hard. "Go ahead, laugh at the old man," he’d warned her.

Her laughter melded into a sob at the end, lips pulled back in a grimace. The stars around her shined even brighter in the light of her tears stuck to her lashes. She felt her lower lip wobble. No one was around, what was the point? She allowed herself to cry, flailing in impotent rage. "I don't want to die!" she shouted to the heavens. Maybe this close, someone would actually hear her and take pity.

There would be no one to mourn her, no one to even report her missing. Absence would be hunted for a while until her pursuers gave up and cut their losses. Tammy Righte would be listed as death in absentia, another sad statistic. All her other alias would only be missed when a contact tried to reach her for something, but swiftly forgotten as they looked elsewhere for someone to do their dirty work. Her more frequent clients might wonder, but it would be a passing question, like the fate of a childhood schoolmate. She'd ghosted through life, taking different names along the way. She went through names like normal people went through clothes: you pick one as needs demand, it gets a little too dirty, discard it and pick out a new one. So many names and alias and identities. Her real name safely locked away.

There was no one left who knew who she really was.

The brief burst of indignation warmed her a little, but the almost absolute zero temperature of space just as quickly sapped it from her, the cold once again cradling her in its loving embrace. Fear threatened to creep up faster than the cold. She'd never been the religious sort. She didn't know if there was anything after this. But if there was, she was sure she'd be going to same place as her grandfather, and that thought offered some bittersweet comfort. Likely not heaven, but if he was there that would be heaven enough. She wrapped her arms around herself as best she could, imagining it was the warm embrace of her grandfather. Droplets floated up from her lashes as she smiled. She'd held his hand when he died, a smile on his face. She kinda wished she had someone to hold her hand, now. "Meet me at the bar, old man," she whispered. "I'm buying this time." Then she closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift to happier times as the cold, gentle embrace of death shrouded her.

#writing #side project #pilot #curious if anyone will know what this is even from #fiction #fanfiction

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years

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Bruises and Baths

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! Something amazing happened over this last weekend. While millions were watching the “Big Game” some of my mutuals came up with a wonderful way to honor the amazing, talented writers here on tumblr. @authorspotlight is a blog for showcasing a weekly author, at random, just to promote their great work and keep the haters at bay! Interested? Follow that blog! We’ve a great little community starting up and I would love, love, love to see you all there!! P.S. Comments, shares, reblogs are appreciated!! I love the love!! P.P.S. shout out to the creator of this amazing gif! >swoon< Summary/ Request: This story came from a request by one of my sweet little followers. After a wild night with Loki, you, dear reader are sore and tired. What does aftercare look like from the God of Lies? Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: References bondage, rough SMUT, then just fluffy, lovey, romantic SMUT

As the back of your thighs met the supple leather of the conference room chair you nearly cried out. Memories from last night made your knees weak and your panties damp as a jolt of pain shot through you. It had been like this all day, fraying your nerves and your patience.

Biting back a moan, grabbing onto the conference table's ledge, you willed your wayward body to relax. One more meeting then back to your apartment upstairs, a cup of tea and a shower. And Advil. Lots of Advil.

"Everything alright darling?" Loki's voice, honey hot, humming in your ear sent a shiver through your aching body. He knew it wasn't alright. Oh yes, he knew very well, but you weren't about to give him the satisfaction of needling you.

Trying to sound unaffected, "Me? Yes. I'm just fine, thank you."

Refocusing on the paperwork in your hands, smoothing your skirt over your tender bottom, you gingerly sat for the afternoon meeting. Perching on the very edge of your chair, back straight, you struggled to appear professional, giving Loki none of your attention. Could Loki allow that? Hardly!

Sliding into the chair next to you, leaning into your space, "I do love your blouse. High neck line, very demure." Dropping his voice an octave, "Good for hiding behind, I suspect."

Attempts to avoid the handsome God, who was so close that his amber scent was swallowing you, were heading out the window. Loki managed to make your body, your physical being, react to him in ways you couldn't overlook.

Playing with the chunky statement necklace that lay on top of your turtleneck, intent on ignoring the mischievous man at your side,"Go away Loki."

Flashing out a silent warning, your eyes peered into his, almost daring him to continue. With a searching glance Loki settled in beside you without another word. Too tired and too sore to spar with him, you turned your attention to the presentation Steve Rogers was starting, almost grateful for the droning distraction.

Feeling your eyes drop closed, heavy from your active night and lack of sleep, you struggled to follow Steve's sonorous voice. Right now it felt more like a lullaby than life saving information. You realized that this was the most comfortable you had been all day and mentally decided to let sleep claim you. Apologizing to Steve would be easier than staying awake just now.

Reaching past you for a water glass, Loki made sure to rub his arm across your chest, waking you fully. A stuttering gasp left you because your nipples, bruised and abraded, were purposefully agitated by Loki's intentional fumbling. "Fuck, Loki!" Whispering for him alone, you glared at his smug smile, now awake and more than slightly aroused.

"What? Is something wrong?" His innocent act was almost as irritating as the rub of your clothes against your abused flesh.

"You know damn well what's wrong." Steve was staring at you, clearly aware that you and Loki had both checked out of his talk. But it was too late. The meeting was over, as was the workday, and you couldn't have been more relieved.

Rising as quickly as your bruised knees allowed, you scooted out before you could be chastised by your leader, trying to outrun Loki too. It didn't work.

He caught you outside the elevator, gripping your wrists tight, pressing his normally delicate fingers against the bracelet of welts you sported today."Shit, Loki! That hurts!"

Instantly releasing you, Loki pressed the call button, a frown creasing his noble brow. "Did you put the lotion on today? The cream I left for you?"

Tugging at the hem of your skirt, hoping no one could see your purple marked thighs, you denied Loki eye contact. "No. I forgot alright? But, ya know, this… this sucks."

Arriving with a ding, you both boarded the elevator, the conversation on hold. In the privacy of the lift, pushing you into the mirrored wall, Loki's mouth dropped to yours. Denying him your lips, you turned away, pouting a little.

Chuckling darkly, "Hard to get, is that it pet? Isn't this what got you into trouble last night?"

"Don't remind me about last night. How could I possibly forget? Every time I move, every step I take, I can feel it, Loki." Your words are angry but your tone? That's whiny. Loki's just so close to you. And your body, betraying, pushes your chest out craving more connection, even if it makes you bite back a whimper.

Missing nothing, Loki's voice full of sin, "Are you saying that it's my fault you can't sit properly? Or... that I'm the reason you're covered from throat to wrist?"

"Um…" That is exactly what you were saying, but with Loki nipping at your earlobe you were forgetting why.

Humid breath husked across your throat carrying the scent of Loki's afternoon espresso. Tracing your jawline with his talented tongue, Loki tisked at you, "Am I the reason you can't walk straight this morning?" Uh oh. This is exactly what he wanted. Admission of submission.

His hand slid under your skirt, lifting it higher as he nosed against your jaw. "Because I loved sucking everyone of those hickeys on to your body while you were handcuffed to my bed, mewling with need."

"Loki…" You felt your center blaze to liquid life. Nuzzling into your covered neck, Loki's arms course over your own, raising them over your head. Pinning you against the mirrored wall of the ascending elevator, "Those breasts of yours, so soft, so full, are covered in my fingerprints. I can still taste your firm, tight nipples. Licking them and biting them while you cried my name was so enticing, pet."

God, you remembered it all. Each affliction, each sharp touch, roaring to life in your mind. Recalling the sexual adventures of the night before was making you weak willed and warm.

Stopping at your floor, the doors parted on a thankfully empty hallway. Taking you by the hand, Loki pulled you toward the room you shared, causing you to stumble over your heels. "Keep up kitten…"

Holding the door for you, Loki slapped your bottom as you passed by. Somehow your legs kept you upright but you still yelped at the stinging smack. Fresh hurt washing over the embers of yesterday's rough play set you whimpering.

Coming up behind you, wrapping you up in his iron banded arms, "Take off your clothes."

Without waiting for a reply, Loki crossed the floor, shutting the bathroom door after him. Your mind wanted to resist his domineering demand. The rebellious side of your nature needed to, but your body was already flush with want.

Interest piqued by Loki's behavior, desire drawing your hands to act without direct input from your brain, you slipped off your shoes. With a sigh, your sore shoulder stretching, you shrugged off your top, letting it drop to the floor. It was shortly joined by your skirt.

Popping his dark head around the bathroom door, "Darling?"

Seeing you in your underclothes, looking more exposed than if you were fully bare, Loki licked over his bottom lip. Sexy as hell, that's what you were, covered in the lavender and scarlet stains of his passion. Although, if he was honest, maybe he had been too rough on you last night.

Turning as he neared, you noticed his jacket was gone, shirt sleeves rolled up. Those strong forearms, which could hold you down and force your pleasure from you, or gather you into a bone cracking hug, were on delicious display. Loki was so impossibly masculine in moments like this, it was no wonder you let him talk you into realizing your wildest fantasies.

Reaching for the hooks on your bra, Loki saw you wince, and it softened him even more. As happy as he had been to restrain you, taste you, tease you, Loki was now over eager to soothe away your hurts. Good thing he already had a plan in motion.

"Come on, dove." Threading his fingers through yours, you trailed Loki to your shared bathroom, the warm scents of vanilla and coconut filling the space. Almost overflowing, the tub was loaded with creamy lather, tendrils of steam rising from the surface. It called to your weary body.

Brushing his hands over your shoulders, Loki kissed along the nape of your neck, gathering your hair to one side. From behind you, he circled your waist, hands slipping under the waist of your panties. As they slide over your thighs, Loki follows, kneeling in order to help you out of them completely.

With his sturdy size for support you stepped into the scalding water, settling in slowly with a gentle groan. Sitting outside your bath, Loki used the same hands that had spanked your bottom pink to swipe sudsy soap across your neck, releasing the tension you carried all day. Following with a soaked washcloth, Loki began to wash you, worship you, with each soothing swipe.

Shifting slightly, you gave Loki full access to your bobbing breasts, hungry for his touch once more. Dipping under the water, you felt him ghost over your legs, his hands quick, never lingering very long. You were cooing quietly, Loki getting high on the soft sounds escaping you at each pass of his palms.

To him you sounded like a happy cat, purring in pleasure, unwound. Eyes closed, leaning into the back wall of the deep tub, Loki could swear you were melting. "May I… may I wash your hair?"

His request was whisper soft, just shy of timid, and so adorable that your heart fluttered at his sweetness. Biting your bottom lip, nodding, you put yourself completely in Loki's capable hands. "Keep your eyes shut, dove."

"Yes…"

Pouring smoothly, Loki traced the flow of the water, separating your hair with his dexterous digits. Heavily lidded eyes watched Loki, the God of Mischief, as he poured shampoo into his hands. Once he was happy with the lather, Loki began working in slow circles, savoring the sensation of your scalp under his fingers.

"Tip you head back, sweetling." Using a hand to keep soap from your eyes, just like a protective mother might, Loki emptied his pitcher over your head. Shivering as the suds sluiced over your heaving chest, you were overcome by the erotic gentleness of your lover.

After rinsing your hair free of bubbles, Loki kissed your upturned forehead, then shifted so that his folded arms laid on the lip of the bathtub. Watching you like that, resting his chin on one arm, the other playing in the cooling water, he was content.

Reaching for his wet fingers, "I think you missed a spot, babe."

"Hmm… did I?" Breaking through the scented suds, Loki's hand slid over your slippery skin, grazing your thigh. Moaning gently, his light touch thrilling, you tipped your head back. Enjoying Loki's quiet exploration of your body, his eyes never left your face, "Gods, you're gorgeous."

Smiling, "Aren't you the God of Lies?"

"I have no reason to lie to you, kitten. And here, now, you are a beautiful water nymph. Tempting and taunting me from your watery lair."

Laughing lowly, "I am no temptress, Loki."

"I beg to differ." His fingers found your fluid folds, two entering you slowly, as Loki leaned in to kiss you deeply. Skimming over your bottom lip, Loki's tongue licked into you, his free hand tangling in your clean hair. Scented water splashed onto the floor as Loki curled his digits against your sweetest spot, soaking him, making you sing out.

Gasping, you gripped the walls of the tub, letting Loki take care of you as your body shook through its release. Safe in his care, cherished and clean, your body softened, satisfaction making you sag into the deep water. When he withdrew, you sat forward, "Not yet, please?"

Using the ledge, Loki rose, chuckling as he lifted your chin. "Take a few more minutes. I'll be back to dry you off in a bit. Don't want you to get pruney, do we?"

"Hmm… no we don't want that!" Sinking back into your warm, wet cocoon, you yawned and shut your eyes.

Too soon, it seemed, Loki was nudging you awake. "Dove? The water's cold now… come on, let's get you to bed."

Stirring, you saw Loki holding out a fluffy towel, ready to dry you off. He helped you stand and made sure you carefully stepped out onto the wet tiled floor. Wrapping you in the comfort of his big bath sheet, you giggled as Loki dried your tresses, then tucked the towel firmly around you.

Leading you to the best looking bed you had ever seen, Loki unwound your terry cloth covering, "Lay down, pet."

You did, happily collapsing into the comforter, laying on your tummy.

"This might be a little cool at first…" Loki's oil filled palms slipped over the sore muscles of your back. Spending some quality time on your tenderized tush, Loki made sure to rub you in delicate circles, smoothing the liniment into your hot skin.

After sliding over the backs of your legs and each arm, "Very carefully roll over, alright?"

Muffled by the downy softness of your bedspread, "Yes, dear."

It took you a few moments to follow Loki's direction. Your body was like melted butter. Soft and pliant, all of the previous night's precious pains soothed away, you were a mushy marshmallow.

Fingers traced over the bites and bumps that marked you as his. Stroking oil over your thighs, your belly, your bruised breasts, you let Loki work. His magical hands anointing you with his attention.

Certain that you had drifted off during his massage, Loki kissed you lightly, gratified that you were comfortable and content. Straightening, Loki stepped out of his trousers, eager to join you in bed. When you felt the mattress dip to accommodate him, you turned towards Loki's warmth,"Thank you, babe. I feel magnificent!"

Gathering you to his side, Loki curled an arm over your middle, his chest to your back. "That pleases me, kitten."

Twisting around in order to face your mischievous man, "I mean it. You take good care of me, Loki."

Twirling a lock of your damp hair in his fingers, "That was always the difference between Thor and myself. I took care of my toys."

Pushing his shoulder, huffing, "I'm not a toy, Loki!"

"I know, I know, it's just I love playing with you so much… You are my favorite plaything. My darling doll."

Pulling him closer, you pressed yourself to Loki, lip to lip and hip to hip. You both let the kiss deepen, drawing you tighter together, when Loki tucked his forehead to yours. "Sleep now, darling."

Nodding with a deep yawn, you let Loki wrap the thick blanket around you, snuggling into the security of his arms. Arms that could bring you to ecstasy easily. Arms that could rock you to sleep. Arms that belonged to Loki... arms that belonged around you.

To my Minxes: @lots-of-loki @brokenthelovely @vodka-and-some-sass @iamverity @just-random-obsessions @archy3001 @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @thefallenbibliophilequote @mizfit2 @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @procrastinatinglikeabitch @peterman-spideyparker

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #hot loki #loki aftercare #loki dom #loki fanfic #loki #mcu smut #marvel smut

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mmos-s · 4 years

Text

HIRAETH CH.4

Summary: girl gets told she might die and ignores it

CH.1 CH.2 CH.3 CH.4 CH.5

ao3

Many argue that the crunching of snow under the weight of someone’s foot, while they’re on a leisurely walk, is one of the most relaxing sounds in the world. Y/N argues that it’s mediocre at best. Your shoes get wet and your toes go numb. When you take a step your whole foot gets submerged into the snow and sometimes the shoe stays stuck there and you don’t notice so now your sock is completely wet. Yes, Y/N is implying that this has already happened three times. She swears she heard the Prince laugh the third time it happened.

Y/N bumping into Zuko’s shoulder for the 13th time had knocked her off her ‘why snow isn’t that great’ rant. This had been the thirteenth time they’d bumped shoulders and now she was convinced he was doing it just to annoy her. She tried to ignore it and keep walking.

Bump.

14.

“Ok, break.” She groaned.

Almost immediately both of them fell into the snow. Y/N laid on her back and sprawled out her hands, months ago she would have thought to make a snow angel. Her body and mind ached, and she couldn’t figure out which one hurt the worst.

The Prince supported his body up on his elbows and was looking at her rather intently. It was bothersome. Not to mention he’d been doing so ever since they’d been walking away from the cabin, that was hours ago, so that must have meant it was around noon now.

Neither of them had said a word since then. Only stolen looks and the fleeting feeling of brushing hands which were much worse than the shoulder bumps. Why were his hands so pleasantly warm? Even the slightest touch and she could feel it, the heat, the warmth.

At one point it had gotten so unbearable that she decided to cuff him with ice. Which he didn’t protest, just a barely noticeable scowl. Y/N hadn’t planned on doing so since he’d always complained but the contact was much worse than his nagging.

She was jealous of the warmth he had though. Not only jealous but extremely embarrassed.

If anyone had cried in front of someone that you’re supposed to seem strong and resilient to, of course there would be some drawbacks in confidence. So she’d told herself to not say a word. Because, well speaking on it would just make things awkward, so not speaking and just trying to forget it was the best option. So that was exactly what she did. When it had been just a couple minutes of them sitting in front of the cave(part of her hoped Ro would magically appear if they had just waited)Y/N had suddenly stood up, only waving her hand for him to follow. And that was the most communication they had for hours.

But he kept staring.

Every time she’d catch him he would avert his gaze almost always a second too late. He wanted to say something, but then never did. Y/N just pretended that she hadn’t noticed and kept looking up towards the sky like it was the most interesting thing in the world, which in a sense it was. It was cloudy, she wondered which type it was.

He was still staring.

Y/N shifted her head and looked his way.

“What is it?” Her voice was aggressive. It had come out to be so but Y/N was more mildly annoyed than anything else.

Zuko looked away far too slowly, bringing his gaze up to some random spot in the snow.

“Uh, nothing.” He blew hair out of his face with his mouth.

“It’s nothing,” He repeated.

Liar. It was obviously something. People don’t just stare at others for the fun of it, that would be boring.

“Just spit it out.” Please don’t be about her crying. Please don’t be about her crying. Please don’t--

“No uh . . . your bandages have been falling off for a while now, it’s bothering me.” He affirmed.

It was an excuse. He was almost too obvious. Sure, Y/N’s bandages were currently unraveling themselves on her arm but that was now. What about the other times, she was 99.9% sure that her bandages were fine before now. She was never very good at tying them though, maybe she was overreacting a little bit, a little too on edge. Y/N never really cared about other people judging her but something about his gaze sometimes made her feel small and uncertain of herself and her actions. She hated it.

She didn’t feel like pushing him any further, he didn’t look like he was going to let up. How annoying.

Y/N sat up and brushed the snow off her hair before looking at her patched-up arm. The Prince was right, it looked even messier than before. She tore it off and then immediately regretted it. It stung, and hard. The air felt extremely cold against the wound, she didn’t remember it being all open like that, the least she’d expected was a bruise. Dried blood soaked the bandages and Y/N didn’t remember that either. Spirits, did she have dementia or something? The most that she could recall was a few scratches with barely any blood. Had she missed it somehow?

“That looks bad,” Zuko stupidly pointed out.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Zuko frowned at her sarcasm, it was really too easy egging him on like that. She knew he barely tolerated her and used it against him, it was fun almost.

Y/N got rid of the used bandages and took out new ones out of one of her bags. She unraveled it and got to work. To be quite honest she was never really good at tending to wounds, she’d been taught the basics but she was always too impatient to listen in class, her friends would always make fun of her. That was part of the only reason she wasn’t completely littered in scars, for someone who practiced serums and medicines this was sort of pathetic. She just plain wasn’t all that good at it. It was the same with using water to heal as well.

After the fourth time of trying to tie the gauze to her arm, Y/N threw it to the ground in a fit of frustration. It wasn’t only because of the fact she absolutely sucked at this, but because he was staring. Again.

“What?” She grumbled.

“No wonder mine are so messy,” He commented.

Y/N nearly gasped, was he serious right now?

“Let me do them for you?” He asked.

Was he serious right now?

Y/N hesitated but then looked over to her injured arm and the ruined bandages. Whatever it’s not like this little amount of interaction would change anything. Y/N hated when people touched her now, but this wasn’t really touching was it? This doesn’t count.

“Fine.” Y/N decided.

He edged over next to her and then held out his cuffed hands. When she did nothing he looked at her in disbelief.

“You can’t expect me to do this with my hands tied.”

Y/N shrugged and almost let a smirk slip. “I don’t know, it’d be funny to see you try.”

He rolled his eyes and motioned his hands towards her again, this time she actually took them off.

He grabbed the gauze and went to put it onto her arm. She flinched as soon as he’d touched her, he was so warm. Had he not even noticed?

“Sorry,” He said. There was no reason for it but he did. Y/N didn’t reply, she merely nodded and let him wrap it around her arm. He was gentle. She couldn’t remember the last time someone else did this for her.

“You’re really bad at this,” He pointed out.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

It was a genuine question. She had reason to believe that he was talking about her poor bandaging skills but the way he’d said it sounded like he meant something else as well.

“. . .The bandages obviously.”

“Right.”

Then there was a lot of silence, not the awkward kind, but not comfortable either. It was an ok middle. The silence broke every time he had to apologize after tightening the wrapping, but it wasn’t strong. The silence didn’t break like a rock being thrown at glass but more like if you cut through fabric with sharpened scissors. It was nice, the woods were always deathly quiet.

“Okay done.” He tied the last knot and then let his arms fall to his side. Y/N hated herself for being disappointed that the moment was over. It felt like forever and she feared she was the only one that thought so. She tried to convince herself that he had just weirdly taken forever to tie them, but then that didn’t work either because that meant her thoughts steered towards the care and patience someone was willing to give to her.

It was done well, it didn’t look like it was going to fall off in an instant.

“Thanks.” She didn’t look at him. And she didn’t say ‘thank you’ because to her that sounded like she cared too much. Y/N was very grateful though.

“What about you?” She asked.

“What about me?” He cocked his head and sent a confused expression her way.

Was she dumb? What about him? Why did she say that? It’s not like she owed him a favor or anything, just because he so happened to know how to wrap bandages well didn’t mean something. None of this changed things, nothing ever would. Wow, she was dumb. What was she thinking?

“Nothing. It’s nothing just--nevermind,” She scrambled, both with her words and her things.

Y/N quickly got up and stepped away from him. She hastily picked up her bags and brushed herself off.

“Let’s go,” She said.

Zuko frowned. “It’s been barely ten minutes.”

“There's a small town close to here and we have to get through it before dark, we’ll rest later.” She kept looking at her bandaged arm almost in marvel, how was this done so well? “I have to meet someone. . .” She trailed off at the end. She hadn't meant to say it aloud.

“General Lee?” Zuko got up and they began walking.

“No, just someone that owes me a favor.”

“Did you kidnap them too?”

Y/N punched his shoulder and he yelped in protest.

“No. We just happen to know each other.” She corrected.

“So, a friend.”

“No. . . just someone who owes me.”

Zuko looked at her with a scowl on his face. “Are you that against friends?”

Y/N stopped walking and looked down at her feet. No person would be against friends, it’s physically impossible to not make even the smallest connection with someone, and that includes hatred. Sure that wasn’t friendship, but you still know them, well enough to hate them at least.

Y/N was never against before. But the less connection you make with someone the less it hurts when it’s over.

“It’s . . . complicated,” Y/N doesn’t know why she hesitated. Things had always been clear to her, especially after everything that happened. She’d promised herself something, and that something meant a lot to her. Going against what she’d been living by for months(nearly a year now)would just be pathetic. For once she could just plainly say ‘yes’.

Zuko raised an eyebrow and then looked over to his left.

“Is it really, though?”

“Yes.” Y/N finally answered, a little pissed off and embarrassed they were talking about this, she felt like she was being taunted.

“Not like you’re the type to be making friends left and right. I mean you tried to set me on fire when I realized who you were the first time we met.”

“Those were different circumstances!” He defended. “And I do have friends, for your information. I'm not as lonely as you are.” He shot back.

“Did you try and kill them too? Or were those. . . oh wait how did you put it?” Y/N feigned deep thought and put her finger on her chin. “Oh! Different circumstances.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Tell me, does it work? Maybe I should be changing my tactic.” She said jokingly.

“Oh noooo, honestly I think I’m really warming up to you. Might just be the Stockholm syndrome finally setting in, but it could also be your outstanding personality.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at that one. He was funnier than she’d thought, he didn’t look like he had much of a sense of humor when they’d first met. The Prince had actually said nothing during their first encounter, nothing at all. It was astounding, how he could stay silent for so long, Y/N just couldn’t help but be as talkative as possible. She’d obviously fallen silent when she’d realized who he actually was.

When there was no more trace of her laugh in the air, the Prince and Y/N said nothing more. Her shoulder bumped into his again but she wasn’t as bothered about it this time. And when it happened again, fighting the urge to hold back a smile had never been so hard. She should have realized then and there that she would never succeed.

The fact that the person Y/N was looking for was hiding in plain sight made things 10x more difficult for her. The town’s center had a handful of Fire Nation soldiers roaming around most likely collecting their ‘protection fees’ from local businesses. The crowd of civilians just trying to get through their day had this underlying anxiety and unsureness scratching at its skin and it just never went away. Darting eyes and hesitant footsteps showcased the civilians’ alertness and fear.

She’d unconsciously tightened her hand around Zuko’s and tugged him a little harder than needed. Of course she was on edge, just hours ago her house had been burnt to the ground by some of the same people. When the both of them had to stop because of a huge crowd Y/N finally got to catch her breath, at least they were blending into the crowd. Just to make sure she looked unidentifiable, Y/N pulled her hood further down her eyes.

Zuko got pushed into her side by one of the people in the crowd. “This is dangerous, there are soldiers everywhere.”

Y/N couldn’t answer him because someone had roughly tugged her arm and yanked it.

“Hey!” She yelled out.

“Shut up and come with me.” The voice said.

It was a soldier. Yet as soon as Y/N had heard the person’s voice she had nothing to be scared of. It was them.

She’d shot the Prince a look, warning him not to cause a scene, his expression read confused but he stayed quiet.

They’d caught the eyes of many people in the crowd, some fearsome and some just plain pitiful. This obviously wasn’t something that hadn’t happened before, yet still no one did anything. Of course, Y/N didn’t blame them, fear is something that’s hard to shake off. It’s in you and discreet. When it doesn’t want to be, it's in your eyes and the way your lip twitches. It’s the way your whole body freezes and you can’t move or say anything, and your heart pleads and yells, ‘I’M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!’. And yet your body stays still and you avert your eyes, you just wait until the moment is over.

That was exactly what everyone in the town did.

Before she knew it the three of them were in some alley. The soldier finally let go and took off their helmet. Shaggy hair covered their eyes and stuck to their forehead. Y/N recoiled in extreme disgust and they were clearly not happy about it.

“Spirits Tiho! You look disgusting,” She said.

“Oh whatever,” They ruffled their hair and tried wiping away the sweat with the back of their hand mumbling something about helmet hair.

“Who is this?” They demanded.

“A friend.” She answered quickly.

“You said you’d be alone.”

“I never said that.” Y/N lied.

“Yes, you did.”

Y/N huffed they were always so paranoid and although she knew they had every reason to be, it could get a bit tiring.

Tiho was undercover. Well, not exactly, since they were born in the Fire Nation and had decided to become a footsoldier themselves. It was when the both of them had met.

Tiho was dying and all the other soldiers had left them because of General Lee’s orders. She’d saved them. That was the favor they owed to each other. It also helped that Tiho had felt betrayed, they’d realized the deep flaws in their nation and was tired of everyone ignoring it. They aided each other and that was all, they both understood there was no friendship in this and that was what Y/N liked about them. At least they understood.

“Tiho, please. The sooner you tell me what’s been going on, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair.”

Tiho let out a long sigh and looked at a non-existent watch with fake concern, Y/N now realized why they sort of got along.

“Fine.” Y/N grinned but her happiness was cut off short when they continued. “But! Tell me who this is, I know you don’t do friends idiot. Are you setting me up or something?” They asked skeptically.

Zuko looked over at Y/N expectantly and she did just the same.

“I’m um . . .”

“He’s um . . .”

They both spoke at the same time and Tiho raised her chin in suspicion. Y/N decided that telling the semi truth would be the best, she just wouldn’t mention his name. She was sure if she did Tiho would kill him on the spot.

“He’s just someone I need to deliver to General Lee.” She said, scratching at the inside of her palm.

“Really? You haven’t done that in a while.”

Y/N only nodded, afraid that if she said anything else she’d slip up. She was never a very good liar and to her dismay Tiho was very good at knowing when someone was lying, they remembered nearly everything. Y/N didn’t know she had a tell for lying until they happened to point it out once.

“Where are his cuffs then?” Tiho pointed to Zuko’s cuffless hands. Zuko looked like he’d been caught stealing and hid his hands behind his back, yeah sure, that totally didn’t make things more suspicious.

“It would just attract attention and that’s the last thing I want. I’m sure you can relate,” She quickly said.

They narrowed their eyes and stared the both of them down.

“Alright fine,” Y/N almost let out a breath of relief. “What do you want to know?”

“Why were Lee’s soldiers after me last night? Tiho, they were at my house,” She said. She let a smidge of anger peak through on accident, she didn’t want to seem so mad, it wasn’t exactly their fault.

“General Lee’s gotten real suspicious of you all of a sudden, think he’s realized how dangerous it is just having you run around buck wild out there.” They informed her.

“But we made a deal, it’s not like I’m planning on killing him or something!” She argued. “Not yet at least.”

“You of all people should know that an asshole like him doesn’t care about sticking to his word. Don’t waste your time and get out of here.”

Y/N’s face fell. She brought her hand and rubbed her temple, this was bad this was bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad. Maybe if she got the Prince to him faster then the deal would still be on, this couldn’t be happening; she needed to find out where they were and he was the only one who knew.

“I can’t--” Y/N started.

“You can.” Tiho reached over and tapped her shoulder twice, their way of affection. Y/N stopped herself from recoiling, it was just their hand that’s all.

“You’ll get yourself captured or even killed.”

Y/N only stayed silent at that. What was she meant to do?

“Tiho!” Someone yelled. Their heads snapped towards them and Tiho quickly put their helmet back on.

“Don’t make the wrong decision.”

And with that they left, Tiho ran back to a random group that must’ve been their assigned squadron. Another soldier slapped their back rather roughly while letting out a big laugh. Y/N could see how much they hated it by the way their hands clenched up into fists for barely even a second. She marveled at how well Tiho could hide their emotions. Something Y/N proved again and again she wasn’t all that great at.

She felt like exploding. She felt like screaming at the top of her lungs until finally fizzling out and collapsing onto the floor, and then lay there and never be able to scream again, her vocal cords forever damaged. Why couldn’t everything just go to plan? Why had he decided to backstab her now, when she was this close. Y/N had never truely trusted him, she would have been dumb to, but this just pissed her off. It pissed her off, it really did, because of course some random small pathetic man has this much of a hole on her. They had made a deal.

‘Deal: an agreement entered into by two or more parties for their mutual benefit, especially in a business or political context.’ That was the definition.

It wasn’t; ‘Deal: to go back on your word and try and get you killed.’

Y/N hated this. She hated the general. She hated the Fire Nation for doing what they were doing, and took everything in her to not punch Zuko right in the face because the red he brandished on his clothes was only egging her on. What an ugly color.

How could any sane person do this to so many people.

That was the worst thing about all this, Y/N knew she wasn’t the only one that got everything strpped away from her in the flash of an eye. She knew it. That never stopped her from being selfish though, she promised herself she would do whatever it took and she did exactly that. So why wasn’t she rewarded? Maybe it was even more selfish of her to expect such a thing.

‘Don’t make the wrong decision.’ Was she meant to just give up? Give up everyone she knew and grew to love with all of her heart. Give that up and just try and keep living a good and honest life while there is a war that’s been dragging on for years on end. Just the thought of it made her feel like throwing up. How could she keep living with all this pain and suffering and regret and hopelessness and self loathing.

She was meant to get by with a voice in her head. A voice that screamed and pleaded for attention, ‘THEY MIGHT BE OUT THERE WAITING FOR YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!’.

The Prince had made the worst decision of his life and brought her out of her thoughts by kicking the side of her leg.

“What?” She snapped.

He threw her an alarming look, like he was trying to warn her of something, “There’s someone that’s been staring at us for a while now.” His voice was weirdly off sounding.

His eyes flickered behind her. Y/N tried looking as discreetly as possible.

Red. All she could see was red.

A tall woman with jet black hair shaved all the way down to a buzz cut. Her eyes weren’t gold like Zuko’s and many other people from the Fire Nation. They were a deep, deep red, so red that Y/N felt like her eyes were on fire. Like her guts were being ripped out. Red jewelry, red clothes, red shoes. Y/N had never hated the color more in her entire life.

The woman was just standing in the middle of the huge crowd peering, no, burning into the alleyway that the two were in. Her face was emotionless and never looked like it was going to move, not even a twitch in the eye. And for the few seconds they had both made eye contact Y/N had felt nothing but fear.

Fear that she’d felt months ago. Not the kind she was familiar with. It was different.

Worse.

When Y/N had finally torn her eyes away from her she realized she could hold her breath for longer than she thought. Y/N also realized that her body liked to think on it’s own. She’d grabbed the Prince’s arm harshly as they both ran to the opposite opening of the alleyway.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when her skin had finally stopped burning, when her stomach had stopped feeling like someone had been chewing at her inside out, or when she could no longer feel a pair of scorching eyes on her, but it took too long. And maybe it was because Y/N was paranoid, but every step she took felt like a step further away from death.

Falling onto damp dirt had never felt so amazing. The snow surrounding her was half melted and all sludgy, forming small muddy puddles around her. Y/N didn’t mind the fact that she was getting her clothes all dirty and wet, she just wanted to relish in the semi warmth of the floor. She really wished the sun was out, not that it would completely get rid of the cold air that surrounded them.

Another blaze of fire ripped through the air and this time it was right next to her. Y/N winced and shot the Prince an alarmed look.

He only shrugged in response and then punched the air toward the ground again, when all the ice melted into the ground he seemed satisfied and layed down on his back. Y/N debated bending cuffs on him again but then decided against it. It wasn’t as cold here compared to back home, he’d have enough power to melt them.

Y/N sighed and held herself up with her elbows, she threw her head back and looked at the stars knowing that’s what she’d be staring at until the sun came up.

She muttered a ‘shit’ under her breath when she’d already felt like her eyes were closing.

“Will you quit that?” Zuko grumbles.

Y/N shoots him a glare. She’d honestly forgotten he was next to her. He somehow turned into the least of her problems in the matter of hours. Her thoughts were so clear before, now it all felt like meaningless white noise. Nothing in her body felt like it was working right.

“What?” Y/N drawls. She’s aware she probably sounds like a whiny baby at the moment but the command had bothered her for some reason. Why did he have to look so under control all the time?

“You’ve been sighing and groaning ever since we got here. You complaining 24/7 doesn’t mix well with my exhaustion.”

Y/N feigned concern and brought her hand up to her head like they would in plays. She dramatically gasped just to add fuel to the fire. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation but she really felt like making fun of him.

“My deepest apologies, Prince. I’ll try to keep the noise to a minimum from now on.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and gruffed. Well that obviously hit some kind of nerve, Y/N found herself proud. When he opened his mouth she quirked an eyebrow, sort of daring him to come up with something to say. When he closed it and looked away she knew she had won.

Then there's silence for a little while. It’s the type where you know someone wants to say something but can’t really find the right timing or the right phrasing for it. An accidental change of tone and it might sound rude or brash, or maybe just plain stupid. But it’s not the awkward ‘i want to say something so badly’ kind of silence because you always expect the other person to not feel the weird energy in the air and feel the ghost of unspoken words silently leave your lips when you think they’re not paying attention at all.

And that’s the only difference.

Y/N shifted her weight and kept looking up. One of her friends once said that the stars gave you courage.

“I’m still going to go through with this, you know.”

Y/N didn’t know why she felt the need to say it to his face(well mostly up to the dark sky). Maybe it was because it had only recently dawned on her that he was actually there when she was talking with Tiho. When Tiho had told her that the situation was lose-lose. That Y/N could die.

Zuko scoffed like she’d just said the dumbest thing in the world. And she guessed that he wasn’t so wrong to think that.

“You must have a death wish.” When Y/N peeks over at him she notices his eyes were closed.

“I guess so.” Stars are so small from down here.

Silence again.

“Why?” He asked. She still can’t place why he had.

Y/N nearly recoiled at the question. Such a simple one.

“Because I’d rather die than not try at all.”

When she’d said it she was looking straight up at the stars. Y/N didn’t feel an ounce of courage.

____________________________

Taglist: @lammello @royahllty @eridanuswave @idkdude776 @sokkas--boomerang

#sokka #zuko #xreader #self insert #zukoxreader #zuko x reader #atla fanfic #avatar: tla #avatar the last airbender #suki #toph #katara #aang #this one was hard #hope its ok

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bubblyani · 4 years

Text

Deeper Relations: 10

(Freddie Jackson x Reader)

A Freddie Jackson Multi Chapter Series

Final Chapter 10: The Resolution

Rating: Mature (18+)

Story Requested by: @97freaknik 😘

Summary: Being the youngest sister of Jackie and Maggie, you were quite young when Freddie Jackson went to prison. Upon his return, you cannot help but recall your innocent love you had for him back then. And surprised by your transformation into womanhood, Freddie cannot help but form a desire towards you. Will a dangerously seductive attraction grow between the two of you? What will be the consequences?

Author’s Note: Cannot believe it’s finally ending. Glad I was able to figure out how to do this the best way possible. Hope you have enjoyed so far. And hope you enjoy this one too!

Series Masterlist HERE

Whenever you thought the worst already have passed, life never hesitated to prove you wrong entirely. It had happened every single time. And you had never wished for a do-over in life, more than you did this very moment. Still speechless, you stood there with your jaw dropped and motionless.

“Is it true?”

Maggie asked, her fear intensifying by every second, “I saw you two together last night, behind the bar. Please tell me if I just was imagining things…” she said, “Y/N! ANSWER ME!” She bellowed. You jumped out of your state, yet still speechless. “Please don’t tell me Freddie is the father of your child…” your sister said softly, as if she feared even imagining. Until patience was not possible any more, “Y/N PLEASE!” “YES! YES! HE IS….” You shouted back, “HE IS …ALRIGHT?” Both panting, it was realized. That you had finally let it all out. With her body shaking, Maggie raised her hand. “So does that mean…” she began, “..you and Freddie are..?” You nodded, fearful of what was to come. Covering her mouth, your sister’s eyes widened with pure shock. It was the reaction you dreaded. “How…How long?” She asked breathlessly. That was it. You could not do this any further. “Maggie please…” “HOW FUCKING LONG?” She cried out. “A few months!” You answered in desperation. Maggie clutched her chest, just so she could wonder if she was even alive at this point. “My god….” She breathed, “How could you-how could do this, Y/N…” Heavy was your heart, so heavy. You could not take this. “Maggie please-” “How could you do this to us???” She cried out, “To me…To Jackie? Your own sister?? How could y-” “WELL, HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL?” You truly surprised yourself when those words exited you like an explosion. Words which were actually your true frustration in disguise. Maggie instantly grew quiet, her eyes were filled with tears. But so were yours. Being the clear winner, you found yourself crying out loud. Landing on your knees, you covered your face as the tears flowed.   “You think I didn’t know how wrong this was?” You cried out, “I tried so hard Maggie…But it’s like a fucking spell I couldn’t get away from. I-I-I was mad about him when I was a little girl. But he and Jackie…they got married and everything was fine. I obviously moved on…” your shoulders shook as your tears kept flowing, “But when he came back from prison, something…something just happened between us.” The tears were akin to a waterfall, while your eyes were red. You were such a mess, “Things just escalated and …Oh Maggie! this is wrong I know… I know…But I can’t deny anymore...I love him. I love him so so much. And now with the baby…I just..please…” clasping your hands together, you begged your sister. You begged her for forgiveness.

Lips quivering with emotion, Maggie fully burst in tears, joining you on the ground just so she could hug you tightly.

“I’m screwed up, I know.” You bawled being held in her arms, “But I love him and I love that baby. I don’t want to lose either of them, Maggie…”

“I know…I know…” she replied midst her tears, stroking your head, “Oh Y/N…”

Tears shared provided enough words for the two sisters to calm themselves down. Unsolved yet calm.

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(5th Week- 11th Week)

With Maggie in the picture, with all that was revealed to her, you could certainly admit that everything had changed. Suddenly you felt you were being watched. Even though it was never physically possible for her to do so, your guilt and enabled her to watch you at all times. That day, once tears were fully shed, she did not utter a word. Cleaning up together, it was vital your mother did not find out. With your sister’s silence you were not certain how she will act out. Will she be of support keeping your secret? Or will she be compelled to make a rash decision? You were her sister, but so was Jackie. Where or where would her loyalties lie, you wondered.

You made your best attempt to see less of Freddie. Truthfully it had come to the point you did not see him at all. You would pass up on Family dinners casually with random excuses every time. They were random but convincing. All to keep a low profile.

Whenever a rendezvous’ were planned, you did not go, but instead left him hang written letters. It had become the only way you chose to communicate with him. He never replied, and it was not expected of him. It was never his to do so anyways. Nevertheless, you informed him of your well being. And you took the chance to explain your absence by suggesting to only see each other once you finally move out. You definitely did not inform him of Maggie’s awareness, for you did not want to make it an issue. For there was enough drama caused already.

You slowly began to experience certain changes physically due to the pregnancy. The usual changes during the First Trimester. In order to avoid your mother’s suspicion, you wore loose clothing around the house. You were thankful your belly had not shown much yet. A part of you badly longed to tell her. Who would not prefer their mother’s assistance? But you just could not. Especially not in this situation.

Classes at University grew more and more difficult to follow. It drove you to greater frustrations than you were already were. Besides it did not help when you were stressed as well.Concerned about your sister’s unknown intentions. Frustrated about missing Freddie for almost two months. Your body seemed to go mad without his touch, your heart was equally mad without a sense of his love nearby. All this, all this were what your heart was not prepared for.Suddenly university felt like a stranger to you.

The longer Freddie could not see you, the more anxious he grew in convincing you to move out. And one fine day, upon his insistent phone call, you decided to finally take the step.

For a normal person, moving out would involve the assistance of one’s family and friends , making the process a warm and sentimental one. But in your situation, you were not so blessed. Your moving out was cold and discreet. Though your family insisted many a times to help, you had to reluctantly refuse. You had to play a role. The role of an adolescent unwilling of their company. But in secret, you would have loved their help more than anything else in the world. One of Freddie’s henchman was the only person who could help you. He literally helped with moving of your goods. As you expected, it was not a grand transition. But it finally happened. And there you were, finally moved in to a beautiful little place by the end of the 11th week.

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(End of Week 12)

You had finally moved out and now living on your own. Yet, you did not see Freddie for a while. And it worried you.

As much as the inconspicuous behavior was appreciated, now there clearly was no need for it. For you were finally free. Not hearing anything from him was not a good sign.

Contemplating on it, you stepped out for class one particular morning.You gasped in surprise.

You felt a sense of completion when you saw Freddie standing there, leaning against his car. Sparks of excitement surging inside, you did not know how to respond. But you were a lady, thus you walked to him like one wearing a smile. When you got closer, you wondered what he would do or say. After all, you were both finally seeing each other after a long time.

“Let me drop you off…going to class right?”

Freddie said, as he got into the car. You were taken back. With no acknowledgment of anything else, he just said that. No passionate statement of how much he missed you, or even a symbolic display of his physical desire ,nor his frustration expressed in anger. Nothing. Embarrassed, you nodded as you joined him.

The quiet drive seemed obvious, for you were too busy trying to figure out what on earth was going on. Could it be that he was torturing you the same way you supposedly tortured him? Truthfully, you did not mean it. You were merely being careful. Why must you suffer for that? Or was there another problem in his mind?

Regardless, you missed him, you ached for him, your heart and your body both. In every way. Just being in his presence was enough.

“That’s a cute lookin top, innit?”

Suddenly, Freddie began.

Finally, the man spoke once more. Pleased, you looked at him.

“You think so?” You asked with enthusiasm. “Yeah…”

“I’m glad.” You said, looking down at your outfit. Finally being on your own, you were able to wear the clothes you preferred. So you treated yourself. The treat came in the form of a short sleeved turtle neck, tucked inside a high waisted flowing skirt, “The material of this top is really nice too. Very comfortable” you said.

“Really?” He asked, his tone still very casual. “Yeah, it’s just amazing.You should feel it” you said, grabbing the sleeve to show him. Desperation was high to make him notice you, to make him talk to you as before. But his eyes were still on the road. He did not seem to bother looking your way. You grew insecure. Could it be he met someone else already? Giving up, you looked ahead.

Until he took action.

Extending his hand towards you, he finally felt the material of your top. But instead of grabbing the short sleeve, he surprised you when his hand grabbed one of your breasts. A rush came over you, something you have not felt in weeks. Giving it a light squeeze, he quickly took his hand away.

“Oh yeah it’s nice”

He murmured, “Nice and… really soft” your eyes caught him lick his lips slowly. What a tease, you thought. It was something he was always good at: Driving women insane. If it were a normal day, you would have chuckled, you would have slapped him on the shoulder in a playful manner, calling him a cheeky pervert. But today, something as simple as a grab, lit that frustrating fire within you. And it made everything worse. From that moment onwards, there was nothing you could focus on but one. Clenching your fists, you swore you were about to implode.

“So what time is the class-”

“You know what?” You cut him off, “I suddenly don’t feel like going to class”

You looked over to him. When your eyes drenched with need, you were relieved to see to his own were drenched with lust rich enough to overpower you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With the car parked in the midst of the quiet seclusion, right in the middle of nowhere, only nature witnessed the two lovers, reunited finally to indulge one’s passions and their bodies once again. This time, you were the primary object of Freddie’s affections and desires.

Laid across the backseat of the car, you were more than comfortable as Freddie lay on his side, kissing you with passion. Your legs were spread open, just enough for you to drown in ecstasy while his fingers gingerly stroked over your panties, drawing various shapes, literally anything over your clothed opening, just so you could writhe and moan.

“Ah…” you cried, wincing, “Oh Freddie…Mmmm” you moaned into his lips. Watching you, Freddie let out a chuckle of fascination.

“Shit…” he said, “I forgot this was the best time”

He was right. When the first trimester of your pregnancy was coming to a close, along came the increased sexual appetite, which provided the extra sensitivity in your genitals. No wonder his grab and light squeeze caused you such effect earlier. You were highly doused in a mixture of desperation and frustration the moment you felt him pull your top out of your skirt. Volunteering quickly, you peeled your top out of your body. Going even further, your fingers unhooked your soft lace bra, tossing both garments away for you to finally be comfortable on the leather seat and to be drowning in his lustful gaze. You felt quite naked.

“Oh…hello hello” Freddie purred, “...the twins have certainly grown up, haven’t they?” He said, as his eyes were glued to your breasts, that have grown two sizes bigger than average. And you were absolutely certain they were equally happy to be under his gaze as well, “Just looking at them makes me so happy…with the shitty day I went through yesterday” he added dreamily. As much as the compliment was flattering, your eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean shitty day?” “Mmm?”

“What happened?” You asked, “Is everything okay?”

Still focused on your delectable bosom, Freddie merely shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it…” “No! Please tell me…i have a feeling its not good”

“Maggie came to see me…”

“She did? Ah!” A gasp left you the moment Freddie began to play with your breasts, casually running his fingers over them like they were a map. An old map that needed tracing and careful observation on every inch.

“Sorry…” he apologized playfully. You blushed.

“No it’s alright…”

“You like it?” He purred, his fingers still unmoved from their previous position, making you blush harder. “Yeah…” you admitted bravely. Pleased, he kissed you on the lips, before his fingers proceeded to play.

“Why did Maggie come?” You asked again, stomach clenched to suppress the pleasure.

“Bloody woman is mad…Coming to my club…telling me to stay away from you and the family”

“She did? When was this?” “Oh...She came by several times…”

“What? Did she say anything specific? Mmm…” your moans distracted you from your own burning question. Especially when you felt him casually place kisses on one breast while his fingers proceeded to encircle both nipples until they were erect. Clearly he was not making things easy for you. Raising his head from your chest, he looked at you.

“No…but she had no fucking right. Coming into my place of work...and embarrassing me like that, right?” Though he sounded casual, he seemed angry.

“You’re right…” you breathed, moaning as he lightly pulled your erect nipples.

“I wonder whether she knows about us…”

“I dont know…” you lied weakly.

Sensitivity off the charts, you were knee deep, “Maybe…” you began, “..maybe I should talk to her. Talk her down. See what’s going on”

Eyes widened, Freddie gave you hopeful look.

“Would you really?” He asked. To which you nodded instantly, immersed in arousal.

“Of course Freddie…” you breathed. He smiled.

“Aww you’re the best, Y/N…” he said, kissing you, “Now where was I?” he added seductively.Taking one hand away from your awakened bosom, he resumed his exploration over your panties, stroking your slit with intensity. Except this time, he watched your instant responses, all the while leisurely latching on to one of your erect buds.

Frustrated without his presence for too long, you were finally at peace as you indulged on his loving. But during all that, you were also conflicted. Why would Maggie do that? What was she unto? Was she going to destroy your happiness and ruin everything? What were her intentions? You had to know.

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(13th Week)

Monday Morning

This time it was you who knocked incessantly on Maggie’s door.

You knocked without care, you made sure it was endless until the door was finally opened. Maggie opened it with a look of annoyance which quick changed the moment she saw you.

“Y/N….” She said softly. Which contrasted from your cold expression.

“Maggie…” you replied, bitter cold. Her eyes moved down.

“Your belly…” she began, “its starting to show a bit…” , Her eyes grew warmer with affection as she spoke.It was true. You were undergoing more small changes. And your belly finally began to show a bit. Being your sister, it was easier for her to notice. Not even Freddie noticed the last time he met you. And it made you wonder sometimes.

Freddie.

Shaking those sentimental thoughts away, you entered the house in a brisk fashion.

“Why would you do that?” You said, turning back to Maggie as she closed the door. You noticed her confusion.

“Why would you threaten Freddie like that? So many times?” You yelled angrily, “...telling him to stay away from me?” You scoffed, “What are you even trying to do?”

“What I’m trying to do?”

Maggie replied in an equally angry tone, “I’m trying to protect you” she continued, as she walked up to you ,“That man was never good for this family…I even told Jackie to leave him, cause she would never be the mess she is now if it wasn’t for him” she said, “He’s dangerous, Y/N!”

“You’re wrong! He’s not” you yelled back stubbornly, “He’s different with me. He’s good to me. He’s so good to me, you have no clue”

Now it was Maggie’s turn to scoff. Shaking her head, she marveled at the idiocy her sister was displaying.

“Y/N…” she began softly, as she took a deep breath, “That man basically…RUINED YOUR LIFE!” She yelled, “He made you fall for a married man, He made you almost fail in your studies…he made you so blind…he even got you fuckin’ pregnant!” She breathed heavily, “WHAT DO YOU THINK I WAS DOING?” She yelled out, waiting for your response.

“You’re ruining my happiness…”

And you finally did, cold and low.You did not believe her. You could not. You loved Freddie too much to even consider what she said.

Hearing that, Maggie’s eyes lost all sense of hope, the little hope she had in you. She was disappointed, she was betrayed. She was hurt.

But just as she was, so were you.

Maggie was the only sister you trusted in your family. She was the one you admired the most. You always thought she would stand up to you no matter what. But now it seemed like she was not. And she will not.

It crushed you.

“Just leave me alone, Maggie” you said, “It’s none of your business…” you added as you turned to leave.

“None of my business?” Maggie repeated, watching you leave her house, “Y/N…THIS IS MY BUSINESS!” She spat, “THIS IS MY FAMILY!!! I HAVE TO PROTECT MY FAMILY!”

Lips quivering with a mix of anger and hurt, you walked away, never looking back.

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(Monday Afternoon)

“You don’t have to look so worried, dear”

“Huh?”

Blinking, you woke up from your pondering. You were reminded that you were at the doctor’s office. Being the first doctor’s visit since you moved out, Freddie was free to accompany you. Given your expression, it was expected of the doctor and Freddie to assume you were worried. But all you did was ponder of what happened that morning, with your sister.

The whirring sound of the machines kept going as the doctor moved the transducer over your belly.

“You’re young…” the doctor said, “…and good news! the baby is perfectly healthy”

She said, pointing at the screen. You gasped as you finally caught a glimpse of your baby.Though it was small as a plum, it was formed. You smiled involuntarily, as the flowers within bloomed with happiness. That life, it was your precious one. The life you created with Freddie. And you were even more joyous to see him reacting so happily.

“Isn’t that lovely babe?…” he said, looking at you as he held your hands. “So…what happens next doctor?”

He was keen. His enthusiasm was evident as he asked a million questions from the doctor, listening to each answer with attention and focus like never before. All the while never letting go of your hand. You felt precious yourself, you felt important. You were right, he was different with you. You could never imagine him being dangerous with you. For he was your safety.

“And don’t worry you lovebirds…” the doctor chuckled, spotting your love struck look, “It’s perfectly safe to have sex now…” she said, making Freddie wink at you. Face turning beet red, you chuckled loudly, converting your face shyly. Good to know, you thought in secret.

On the drive home, Freddie was in good spirits. He was joyfully happy about the baby. And you were glad to see that.

“Right, did you talk to Maggie?”

And just like that, your mood shot down the dumps once again. It took you back to that morning. That horrid morning. You cleared your throat.

“Yeah…actually…” You muttered. Sensing your unsatisfied tone, Freddie attempted to match yours with a lower voice. “And?”

“Freddie…” you began, “She saw us that night at the bar…” you muttered hopelessly, “When I confronted her, she kept insisting how you are not good for me, telling me to leave you” you continued, “She said you were dangerous”

“And do you believe her?”

“What? Of course not!” You looked at him like he was muttering nonsense. “This is just ludicrous” you scoffed, “I just…” you sighed heavily, “I don’t know why she’s so hellbent on trying to tear us apart.” Lowering your head, you covered your face with your hands. You felt hopeless, “I wish…she could just leave me alone for good. She’s driving me crazy. This is so hard…” It was true. This was too much to handle. With your breath quickening, you felt like you were almost going to have a panic attack, “This is just so-”

“Hey hey…calm down, babe…”

Freddie cooed. Luckily the car managed to halt at a stoplight, allowing him to lean over.

He gently stroked your back, “It’s alright…everything’s going to be fine. Trust your Freddie and all will be fucking smooth sailing…” his voice turned soft as velvet with each word as he comforted you.

You chuckled.

“I wish I could believe you” you said.

“You can…”

Looking up at him, you sighed.

You’re wonderful, you know. Only you realized you never said those words out loud. Leaning forward, you expressed it openly by tenderly kissing him on the lips.

But the moment your lips touched his, you felt a spark being created. A spark that did not wish to burn so short so soon. You willingly contributed as his lips begged you to kiss him again, turning sweetness into immensely heated and intense passion.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Few minutes later)

The strength of the bed at your new house was never really tested. Until this particular day.

With that sweet kiss that turned intense, the doctor would be pleased to know the couple had taken her advise and suggestion to heart well enough, it was exercised a few minutes later.

For there you were, you and Freddie, making love after many, many weeks. Which truthfully seemed like forever. Given the frequency it was done before.

Naked bodies connected, passionate sweat fused together with the clash of each other’s bodies. You straddled him firmly as you both moved together.

As sensitive as you were now, the pleasure you experienced grew tenfolds. You were in bliss.

“Do you love me?”

Freddie grunted. Throwing that question right back at you. The very question you asked him a while back.

“Fuck yes!” You said breathlessly. For it was certainly true. Your cries were loud as he thrusted harder.

“No matter what happens…do you love me?” He repeated it, with some embellishments.

“Yes…” you agreed, as you kept bouncing, “I love you…no matter what happens I’m yours…Ah!…” you three your head back the moment you felt him greedily guzzle on every inch of your now-heavier breasts, “Oh god!…I love you…I will never let you go, Freddie I swear…” you kept crying out.

“Really?” He growled, his eyes watching you, though his face was still nestled on your bosom. The fireworks inside you did not stop and with each blow a new sense of satisfaction was discovered within you. It was more than you could handle.

“Yes…yes…”

You cried out, “You’re the only one that matters. It was you…it was always you” the box of inner truth was suddenly unlocked and you could not stop revealing. Cupping his face, you kissed him roughly, “I want you all to myself…No other woman can you…” you stressed with gritted teeth. His eyes glinted with joy.

“Not even Jackie?” He asked.

“ESPECIALLY NOT JACKIE…” you finally admitted, “Oh! Freddie…ah!” You moaned with high volumes when his lips continued to feast on you and his body continued to ravish your own.

It was the truth, you did not want him shared. Ever since you laid eyes on him since childhood, he was your dream man. He was your only desire. No one else was able to stir your heart the way he did. Not even any celebrity.

Now, with him madly obsessed with you, with him in love with you, it was more than what you could have asked for. And you were surely not going to let him go. No matter what will happen. You were his and he was yours.

You were mad, yes. But at least you knew.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Saturday)

Missing their aunt for too long, your nieces were highly insistent you come over to see them. With their own exams coming up, you volunteered to help them with their studies.

When Jackie barely came out of her bedroom, you guessed she was either too high to show up.

But Freddie, he was there. He watched your interaction with the children quite intently. While sitting on the sofa, he truthfully could not keep his eyes of it. Most specifically you. The way he watched you teach and instruct them, brought you excitement, a feeling of pure joy. You hoped he was proud. You hoped to be a good mother to his child that was growing inside of you. Unfortunately you did not tell his other kids about your pregnancy. Truthfully you did not have the heart. For many questions will follow soon after, and informing them you will give birth to their half sibling was a nightmare. Thus, you were smart enough to wear loose clothing to hide the small belly of yours.

Jimmy announced his sudden arrival with a knock on the door. The way Freddie walked up to him, the way their conversation buzzed in the distance caught your attention. It was strange to see Jimmy looking this unhappy.

“Gimme a few minutes, will ya Jimmy?”

Freddie said, as he headed to the toilet. Giving the nieces a break, you slowly walked over to Jimmy. He waited by the door.

“Something bothering you, Jimmy?” With a wave, you asked him. Trying to smile out of politeness, he shook his head.

“No it’s all good” he said, but you could tell he was holding back. Sighing, he clicked his tongue, “I shouldn’t really say...I mean she’s your sister” he said still looking down. Your eyes furrowed.

“Something going on with Maggie?” You asked, folding your arms. Which suddenly gave him the opportunity to vent. Slowly he leaned over to you to whisper.

“Do you know if anything is wrong with her these days?” He asked desperately, “She’s just so different…” he continued, “She’s angry… and ready to snap any second” he added, scoffing “She keeps telling me I should stop trusting Freddie…all the bloody sudden”

“She what?” You asked.

So, could your problem be the catalyst that was causing the problems there? Rubbing his mouth with his palm, Jimmy looked at you with begging eyes.

“Y/N...I love Maggie. I love your sister. But Freddie …he is family to me. I trust him for life I can’t just let that go...you know that right?” He asked.

“Yeah I do...” You nodded, which was a stone cold lie. You could never agree to that when you were willing to choose Freddie over anyone else. You were a traitor, and you knew it.

“We had this huge fight and I had to leave it like that...”

“Why? You going somewhere?”

“Some business to take care of…Will be away for a few days” he said. You nodded, he meant Ozzie’s work. You wondered whether Freddie will be joining him. Jimmy sighed heavily once again.

“I’m just worried where this is going to head”

“Don’t worry about it…” you said, “…maybe a few days away will be good for both of you to clear your heads”

“Maybe…” Jimmy nodded in acknowledgment. Giving you a grateful nod for lending an ear, Jimmy left when Freddie joined him.

As you washed the dishes that evening at your place, your mind was quite occupied with many thoughts. A part of you wondered whether you should talk to Maggie, get her around to calming down in order to save her relationship with Jimmy. No matter the situation, they do have a promising future. But the moment you thought of the future, you realized how much she was trying to ruin your very own. How much she was threatening the man you love to leave you. How she was on an attempt to rid of all happiness that could exist in your life. And that made you sad, it made you angry all over again.

It’s her life, she will handle it. you thought.

Speaking of the man you love, you missed Freddie. The thought of not seeing him again for a few days, it saddened you. It made your heart heavy. You wished if you could have sent him off properly. You wished he kissed you before he left. Even it was for a day, you missed him. Right then, that was when you were reaffirmed again of how much your heart ached for that man.

“Why so blue, Cupcake?”

You gasped when Freddie’s voice filled your ears. He surprised you, by wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Oh my goodness…” you clutched your chest, turning to him “You’re back!” You squealed in excitement as he tightly hugged you.

“Sorry I couldn’t tell you…” he said, rubbing your tiny belly, “ There was some..urgent business”

You nodded. Except your eyes suddenly squinted. Leaning forward, your eyes caught something odd.

“What-”

You began, pausing the moment you noticed a red stain on his collar. Given the color, it appeared to be a bloodstain.

Freddie was quiet, and so were you. With his eyes on you, your fingers rested on the stain. You knew what his work usually entailed. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you fell for him. Even from the start. Clearing your throat, you smiled. For you were glad he was alive and breathing.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” You said, to watch him break into a smile as well.

“Only if you join me in the shower…” he winked, moving forward to kiss your neck. Feeling ticklish, you chuckled. But those chuckles were quickly quietened when those kisses reached your lips.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Monday Morning)

Just when the morning sun had touched the earth, You knocked on Maggie’s door. This time your knocks were different. They were calm and controlled.

It was quite unexpected of you to show up at her door so soon. But at one point it was expected. Because there was a sudden change of heart. You felt this stronger ever since Saturday night. With all the danger people deal with, the bargains made for life and death, you were truly grateful to be alive and happy. And that was when you realized, all these petty fights or misunderstandings were not worth it all. All you wanted were nothing close to hard feelings with your sister.

Your knocks received no answers.You knocked again.

Maybe she might expose your secret. Maybe you will be shamed. But at this point, you simply did not care. You loved Maggie enough to not care. Your mother might care, Jackie especially might. But Maggie was the only sister that mattered to you.

The fact that the door was still not answered bothered you.

“Maggie!” You said, “Are you at home?”

She surely must be, it was 7 in the morning. She would not leave for work until 8. Tapping your feet with impatience, you held on to the door knob.

Only to find the door opened without any issue.

But the fact it was not even locked, it frightened you. Has something happened? Your heart began to race as you slowly entered the house.

“Maggie?” You cried out, “Mags! It’s me…” you said walking inside. Nothing in the house seemed to be in distress. But you still did not hear from her. You scanned all the rooms in the house, possibly every inch of the place. But still you could not find her.

The racing of your poor heart did not slow down. Instead you panicked.

“Mags??”

You turned in a flash when you found Jimmy by the door. Holding a bouquet of flowers, his hopeful expression changed the moment he saw you.

“Y/N…” he began in a low tone, “Where’s Maggie?”

Speechless, you honestly wished you could answer that.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Monday Evening)

Where was Maggie?

That was all that you could think of. That was what you kept thinking when you called everyone you knew. Her workplace, her friends, no one had heard from her nor seen her since the weekend.

With every phone call you made , restlessness grew. Guilt was also nearby. Would she have been at home if you checked on her on the weekend? If you called her like you initially thought? Your mother and sister were mad worried. You wished you could have gone out and looked for her yourself. But Freddie did not allow it. For the sake of your baby, he insisted he would go with Jimmy instead.

With exams looming, you were supposed to study, but you did not have the heart. Instead, you found yourself slumped on the sofa, feeling empty with worry. The longer you slumped, the deeper you dove into old memories. Including one in particular:

It was a day you remembered so well. When you tagged along with your sister to her Hair Salon to watch her work. With the smell of hairspray and dyes still fresh in your memory, you remembered how you could not stop marveling at the way she did wonders with the hair of many customers.

“You’re so good at this...” you breathed, to which she chuckled.

“You say that every single time”

“Cause it’s true!”

You said. Letting out a dreamy sigh, you folded your arms, “I wish I was a Hairdresser”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Maggie said, “You’re going to do better than that” she added, looking at her customer who sat in front of the mirror, “Do you know my sister will start university tomorrow?” She said proudly, to which the lady looked so impressed.

“Well you must have worked really hard then, dear” The lady said. You smiled shyly. The other hairdressers even went far to applaud you. That proud look Maggie wore on her face was something you could not forget. It moved you.

“Only want what’s best for you, love” She said, patting your shoulder. You smiled.

“Thanks Maggie”

Tears were present in your eyes much faster than expected. By wiping them away, you wiped the memory away as well. This was not funny anymore, Maggie I miss you.

You jumped out of the Sofa when you heard the door open. It was Freddie. Except he did not look normal. Sadness was quite evident in his face. And the way he took long strides slow in pace frightened you. Running unto him, you were desperate.

“What’s going on Freddie?” You asked, “Any news-”

Before you could continue, you were pulled into a tight embrace.

“She’s left him...” he said, “Maggie…she left Jimmy”

Your eyes widened.

“What?” You said, pushing to face him“How is it even possible?” You said,“How do you even know?” You pressed. Looking downcast, Freddie seemed so different.

“A note...” he said, “She had left him a note”

This all sounded quite ludicrous.

“No...no this is not true”You began shaking you head as you backed away from him “This doesn’t sound like her at all...” You said with certainty, as you were trying to think. With clenched fists, you tried to make towards the door, “I want to see it...”

“No love...” He pulled you back “Jimmy’s not letting anyone see it...” His hold was so tight, it started to hurt you, “He’s in a bad place right now...”

“I just… can’t believe this...” you insisted, still with furrowed brows, “Maggie...just vanished?”

Because this was too ridiculous to even be perceived as the truth. Where would she had gone? Why leave the town? Why this? Or could it be something worst had happened?

“No! I really should go...” you said trying to pull away. Released from his grip, you were resolute to head towards the exit.

“You’re leaving me?”

You froze.

Turning back, you saw Freddie looking depressed. You were at a loss.

“What? No I-”

“Y/N…”He began, his lips quivered while he got down on his knees, “Please promise me…”He begged, “Promise me you won’t leave me like that…”

“Freddie?”

“You don’t know how Jimmy felt...”He pulled you with desperation until you knelt right with him “I just don’t want to feel The same...” you swore he almost broke down, “Promise me...”

“Freddie…” You began softly trying to sooth him. To which he held both your hands tighter. “Promise…” He breathed.

His eyes, they were truly desperate. They reminded you of the day he confessed his love to you. Not a minute have you seen him this broken down. The need was evident. The emotion was primal. You had never felt this loved.

“Freddie… there is nothing in the world I won’t promise you”You said, cupping his face, “I loved you for so long. I have loved you more than I have loved anyone else in my life. Even my family.” You said, loving stroking his face, “You make me alive. You help me make sense of life. You’re in my thoughts every waking moment. You’re my air. My heart, mind, my body is all yours.” You said placing one of his hands over your belly, “If I have to live in secret all my life I would still…because I love you” you said,

“And I will never leave you”

Seeing the joy in his face was all worth staying back. Freddie kissed you with great intensity. Kissing him back, all you wanted at that moment was be by his side.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Few months later)

Staring out through the window, you savored the evening sky. You took in a deep breath, as the hues of pink, purple and orange fell over the outskirts of London like a veil. It was quite the beautiful sight.

The sound of the crying baby made you turn back to the crib. Your eyes, they were certainly filled with love as you picked up the infant.

“There there...” you cooed, before you started to hum a lullaby. You hummed it soft, it was soothing enough. Pressing your nose against the little head, you placed tender kisses, sending the little baby off on a journey filled with slumber. With the infant safety on the crib, you exhaled deeply.

Changes, there had been many. So many, you could not believe.

Yes, as expected, you finally gave birth to a healthy baby boy a few weeks back. Freddie was ecstatic since he always wanted a son. And the fact he had one with you, sent him to the heavens.

Changes had applied to the other unsettled matters as well.

You did not hear from Maggie ever since. No matter how much and how longe all had searched for her, there was simply no trace. It was as if she never even existed. Jimmy, affected by this, he changed for good. And unfortunately, you never saw the joy in his eyes ever again. No matter how much time had passed, it always will be the mystery that will haunt you every night. You would rather have her around tormenting you about your life than being quiet for good. You missed her everyday.

You quit University soon after Maggie disappeared. With the looming pregnancy and your massive neglect in studies, it was expected. Needing of a job for your livelihood, you began to work at a bookstore nearby thanks to the little knowledge of you had of literature and history. Though you did not attend class anymore, you still managed to see Marcus and Heath around town. They would be polite, they would acknowledge. But all that was limited to nods and nothing more. A part of you always regretted not fighting for them more. A part of you will always be carved in pain. For it was not the same without them in your life.

Finally admitting the unhappy life she was living, Jackie decided to leave Freddie and agreed to his divorce. Unable to face mother and the entire town, she willfully moved into a place which was far away from everyone she knew. The daughters lived with her, but they managed to see their father often as they wished. And Jackie was free to live her own life.

Your mother however, was torn. Watching her entire family broken in some way, the announcement of your pregnancy was the last straw. She barely spoke to any of you afterwards. Which certainly did not make things easy for you and Freddie when it came to planning your future together.

“There you two are…” Freddie’s voice made you look up from the crib. Walking into the bedroom, he was full of smiles by the sight of his son.

“All’s well with the little lad, eh?” He whispered, to which you nodded.

“He’s strong and handsome like his daddy…” you murmured, making him wrap his arms around you.

“All thanks to me missus…” he purred, pressing his forehead against yours.

“When I wonder can I ever be that…” you said, placing your hands on his shoulders, “…to have a ring on my finger, proudly telling the world you’re mine…” you said sadly.

After all that have happened, you and Freddie longed to sort out and define this relationship. To be together publicly. How on earth will that transition take place? How will you tell the world? Would the world believe the story of a benevolent former brother in law spending time caring for the former sister-in-law who was a single mother? Where his kindness would lead up to romance? Would that be believable enough?

That was what you had so far. But in all fairness, who would accept it? Does it really matter?

Pulling you closer to an embrace, Freddie’s grip tightened.

“I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry babe”

He said, kissing your neck sweetly, “Freddie always takes care of things” he whispered in your ear.

Relieved, you savored his embrace gladly. You were glad. You were glad to face the troubles of the past, present and future with him by your side. Because in truth, your life was not exactly at it’s best at the moment. It did not turn out the way you have hoped. It had been the worst. Your family shattered into pieces. Your mother not in speaking terms. your sister’s marriage destroyed because of you. Your other sister vanished completely, possibly because of you. Some nights you’d wake up in cold sweats, deeply worried whether she was actually dead. You even gave birth out of wedlock without any family by your side for support. All that had happened to you was horrid.

All except Freddie.

For when you looked around and saw Freddie sleeping next to you, or when he held you or made passionate love to you, when you looked at the child he blessed you with, you forgot about all that was horrid and cruel. For all that was horrid could not compare to the joy and the victory you have achieved.

The joy and the victory of being truly in love.

——————————————————

Thank you so much for reading this! It was definitely a new writing challenge for me, given the decisions made by these characters. But it’s drama right? Thanks again for reading.

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hobiorbit · 5 years

Text

hopping into love VI (m.)

pairing: (mainly) park jimin x hybrid!reader, hybrid!jeon jungkook x hybrid!reader, sligh hybrid!hoseok x hybrid!reader warnings: male masturbation, blowjobs (m/f giving), panty kink, dirty talk, exhibitionism, voyeurism, creampie, threesome (m/m/f), cunnilingus, public sex, knotting, reader is biologically female summary: In which Jimin has no idea what he’s getting himself into when he adopts you, and he finds both him and Jungkook sexually and romantically infatuated with you A/N: so this is the last chapter of this series. i’m so happy it’s received so much support, and i really hope it lives up to any and all expectations you might have had for it. once again thank you to everyone! <3

“Y/N, what did i tell you about putting sunscreen on?” Jimin looked at you with a certain sternness in his eyes that made you cower slightly, jutting your bottom lip out. “It’s sticky…. And I can’t reach!” You answered, crossing your arms.

Your owner and Taehyung- along with your two hybrid friends decided that there was no other way to celebrate the transition from spring to summer than having a picnic. So, you had all packed up and gone to a quiet spot away from the loudness of the city, where you’d spend most of the day playing around with the two other hybrids- if Jimin would let you have fun.

Your owner eyed you as you crossed your arms in front of your body, wrinkling the fabric of your frilly tank top. It went nicely with the bottoms you’d chosen to wear that day, a light wash denim skirt. Your looked darling, everyone could see it. Your excuses hardly seemed to phase Jimin, and your pout increased when you could hear Jungkook and Hoseok sniggering about how you were in trouble.

“Hey, you guys. Why don’t you start unpacking the food?” Taehyung told the other two hybrids, not wanting an argument to break out. The two had a tendency to gang up on you, and they would unknowingly take it too far.

Jimin sighed as he bent down to his backpack, pulling a tube of sunscreen out of it. Your excuses to avoid the assault of the liquid never seemed to work. No matter if you burned or not, Jimin would lather you with it anyway, saying it protected you from a lot more than burns.

“Come here.” Jimin told you, not bothering to look up and meet your gaze. He knew you’d be frowning at him, and all he really cared about was making sure you were safe from the sun for the rest of the day. You trudged over to your owner, ears flat against your head as you wished you were down in the valley with the other hybrids and Taehyung.

“It’s really not that bad, Y/N. Turn around, and move your hair so I don’t get any sunscreen in it.” Jimin told you. You obeyed, gathering your hair in your hands and lifting it up so Jimin could slather sunscreen onto the exposed skin of your back. You whimpered from the coldness against your skin, but stood still as he began to rub it in.

Once your back was covered, Jimin moved to your arms and shoulders, before leaning down and covering your legs. You were about to walk away when Jimin grunted in disapproval, making you turn back to look at him curiously. He was signalling to his face and chest, making you deflate.

Jimin sent you a beautiful smile nonetheless. He carefully applied sunscreen to your face, looking into your eyes and admiring you as he did so. Your eyes were wide as you stared back at him, a small frown on your lips as you patiently waited for him to finish. When your face was sufficiently covered, Jimin squeezed your cheeks and leaned down to place a kiss on your lips.

You immediately smiled into the gesture, returning it until he pulled away a couple seconds later, quickle covering your chest in sunscreen before kissing your forehead, bringing you over to where the rest of the boys had set up.

“Y/N! Over here!” Hoseok shouted, patting the spot he and Jungkook had left in between them. You walked over, plopping down in between them. Taehyung handed you the sandwich Jimin had packed you, which you took gratefully. Taehyung and Jimin began to unpack different snacks- fruits, crackers, and even some sweet things you and Jungkook had begged Jimin to let you get.

Jungkook immediately started chomping down on his sandwich, and you quickly followed suit. You hummed happily at the taste, tail twitching in happiness behind you. Once you had half your sandwich done, you grasped your water bottle. You gulped down a few big drinks, some water leaking out the side of your mouth. Hoseok wiped the side of your mouth caringly, chiding you for behind messy.

“Here comes the airplane~” Hoseok teased, wiggling a baby carrot in front of you. You opened your mouth and entertained him, giggling at the airplane noises he made. You carefully took it into your mouth, avoiding the dog hybrid’s fingers. Once he took his hand away you began chewing normally, quickly going back to your sandwich as you observed everyone around you.

Jungkook was done first, which wasn’t a surprise at all. Jimin tended to take his time with his food, and while Taehyung was also never in a rush, the bites he took were ginormous. Hoseok tended to be fast with everything, but sometimes he slowed down enough to enjoy his food rightfully.

“Hurry up… I want to go play.” Jungkook groaned, flopping onto the blanket spread out below you. You looked down at him, cheeks full with food. He smiled, bringing a finger up to your cheek. You smiled and swallowed, quickly eating the last few bites of your sandwich as Hoseok followed suit.

“We’re gonna go into the forest and walk around. It looks pretty cool in there.” Jungkook told both of your owners. Jimin nodded slowly. “You have your phone, right?” Jimin asked, and Jungkook digged around in the pocket of his jeans before fishing out the object in question. Jimin smiled, looking toward you.

“If they’re mean to you, come back here. And you guys,” Jimin broke his gaze to look at the two male hybrids. “Be nice to her.” Taehyung nodded, holding up his fingers to his eyes before switching them to Hoseok, a silent way of telling the hybrid his eyes were on him. Hoseok laughed happily, wagging his tail.

“Okay, okay! Let’s go.” Jungkook said, grabbing your hand and dragging you along in the direction of the wooded area, walking onto a somewhat worn path. It was a beautiful spot, sunlight shining through the trees as everything was painted green. Different foliage and earthy scents bombarded your senses, making you feel at peace with where you were.

Hoseok ran ahead of the two of you, sniffing random things and looking around excitedly. You stayed closed to Jungkook’s side, perfectly happy with following along and observing the dog hybrid’s actions.

“Look at that tree!” Hoseok said, pointing farther into the forest. Jungkook had taken special care to remember the turns you were taking, which you were thankful for. You followed Hoseok’s finger to the tree he was pointing at. It was definitely huge, the diameter of it so large that even with both of his arms spread around it, Hoseok couldn’t even make it halfway around.

“Oh, wow.” You said, eyes wide as you observed the colossal tree. Even Jungkook seemed to take interest, quickly joining Hoseok in observing it. The ground around it was covered in luscious green grass, the entire scene looking straight out of a movie.

“Y/N, come here!” Hoseok nodded toward you. You obeyed, walking over and looking at the tree. “Wanna play a game?” Hoseok whispered into your ear, making you shiver as your thighs clenches. The dog always had an effect on you when he wanted to.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Through the corner of your eye, you observed Hoseok looking at Jungkook, almost as if seeking his approval before speaking again.

“You’re going to bed and keep your hands on the tree while Jungkookie and I have fun with you. Sound like a plan, baby?” Hoseok asked you, caressing your waist. Your eyes widened at how bold he was, but you nodded. “Yes…” You said afterward, knowing that Jungkook had a tendency to not do anything until you verbally confirmed you wanted it to happen, no matter how your body was reacting.

Hoseok seemed pleased with your response, because he gently bent you until you were pressed against the tree, hands touching the rough bark. Your cheek was resting against your hand, giving you a somewhat restricted view of what was going on behind you. You felt Hoseok pulling your skirt over your hips more than you felt it, and before you knew it your panty clothes core was exposed to both of the hungry hybrids.

Hoseok cooed at the cuteness of your panties, bringing a hand up to mess with your tail, resulting in you keening and wiggling your hips. If the wet spot on your underwear wasn’t apparent before, it definitely was now.

“Oh, my little bunny. So excited to play with another man… Are Jiminie and I not enough for you?” Jungkook chided while pressing light, feathery touches to your clit over the soaked cloth of your underwear. Your eyes widened in panic as you shook your head, both boys laughing at your reaction.

“No… Love Jungkookie and Jiminie.” You pouted, plump lips pushing outwards looking deliciously enticing.

“Don’t worry, baby. I was just teasing. You gonna be a good girl for us?” Jungkook asked. You nodded. “Yes, Kookie. Please play with me.” You answered, causing Hoseok to groan. He took your words as a signal to start, hooking his long fingers under the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down to your knees.

“You’re soaked. Excited for my knot, huh baby?” Hoseok asked you, making you keen in excitement. The mere thought of being stretched around Hoseok’s knot had you gushing, aching to be filled.

“Yes, Hoseokie, want you to fill me up…” You whined, arching your hips so your ass was on display for both men behind you. Jungkook gripped your waist. “Patience, bunny.” Jungkook told you, making you stop your movements, albeit slowly. When you were still again Jungkook ran his fingers down your cunt, wetting them before sliding a digit in.

You whimpered at the friction caused, focusing on the pace Hoseok set. You could hear the squelching of your pussy, only proving how wet you were. Jungkook rubbed his cock over his jeans, biting his lip at the sight.

“Fuck, I need to taste you.” He finally said, sinking to his knees and tonguing at your went cunt as Hoseok continued his assault. The extra stimulation had you moaning out loud, lost in pleasure. Jungkook tongued at your clit harshly while Hoseok added a second finger, hitting the one spot inside of you that made you go crazy.

“K-Kookie, Seokie, I’m gonna cum.” You whined, writhing your hips against their movements. Jungkook digged his hands into your thighs in an attempt to keep you still as both of their movements became harsher and faster, attempting to get you to reach your high. In barely any time, your mouth was open in a silent scream as you gushed onto Hoseok’s fingers, getting Jungkook wet too, no doubt.

They both stepped back, Hoseok wiping his hands on the side of his track pants, taking in your form as you tried to recover from your orgasm. You were breathing heavily, hair disheveled as your tongue had snuck out of your mouth, almost panting.

“You’re so good for us. Do you think you can do it again for me? I really want to stretch you out… I’m sure you could put that pretty mouth of yours to use for Jungkookie, yeah?” You licked your lips, suddenly feeling very rejuvenated.

Nodding, you agreed to Hoseok’s inquiry. “Yes, Hoseokie. I can do it again.” He gave you a wide smile, one that felt entirely unfitting for the current events, but you returned it nonetheless. Hoseok slid his track pants down enough to free his cock, grabbing it and pumping it a few times while staring straight at your soaking pussy.

“Gonna mount you, knot you up and fill you with my pups. You want it, right baby? Want to carry my pups for me? We’ll have to carry you back when we’re done here because you won’t be able to walk, gonna fuck you so hard.” Hoseok told you, making your eyes almost roll to the back of your head.

“Please! Mount me, make me yours!” You begged him desperately, wanting nothing more than for Hoseok to stuff his cock inside of you and fuck you. He seemed pleased enough, because he grabbed your hips tightly and guided his cock into you, groaning at the pleasure that surrounded him. He immediately started a bruising pace, leaving you to cry out as Jungkook went to your side, smoothing your hair back and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“So fucking tight, taking me like a champ. So good for me, baby.” Hoseok told you, running a hand over your tail once again that had you keening against Jungkook’s lips, kissing him like it was your lifeline. Your mind was completely jumbled, the only thoughts in your mind were consumed by the two hybrids who held every bit of your attention.

“Y/N, can you take me? Use your mouth for me, baby?” Jungkook asked you gently, to which you only nodded through your whimpers and whines as Hoseok continued his assault on your pussy. You weren’t sure how much longer you could last, and by the sound of it Hoseok wasn’t in very good shape either.

Jungkook got to work freeing his cock from his jeans, quickly guiding it to your mouth. You immediately suckled on the tip, circling your tongue around it before beginning to bob your head on his cock. Your movements were jerky and not very fluid due to the absolute harshness of Hoseok’s thrusts.

“One isn’t enough for you, huh bunny? Need two cocks to keep you happy? Fuck, you look so good stuffed full.” The older hybrid commented, slapping your ass which had you moaning around the other rabbit hybrid’s cock. Jungkook weaved his hand into your hair, guiding your head down his cock as he threw his head back and moaned.

Your pussy spasmed around Hoseok’s cock, signalling you were close. He cursed, speeding up his movements as the rim of your pussy started catching on him, a tell tale sign that his knot was forming. You moaned, sending vibrations up Jungkook’s cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna knot you. Are you ready, Y/N?” Hoseok asked, keeping his dark gaze on you as you tried to nod as best you could with a cock inside your mouth. Jungkook’s hips stuttered. He pulled out of your mouth, giving you free reign to moan. The other rabbit hybrid jerked his hand over himself. “Gonna come on your pretty face, bunny.” Jungkook told you, and you immediately stuck your hand out. That seemed to be the boiling point for both hybrids, Jungkook spilling himself over your face and Hoseok stuffing his knot into your pussy. You cried out from the stretch, enjoying every second of it.

Hoseok leaned over your back, kissing your shoulder as he rubbed your clit, allowing you to finally cum around his cock again, leaving you entirely worn out. Jungkook scooped up his cum from your cheek, holding his fingers out for you in a silent command to clean them off. You did so, swirling your tongue around his digits as you felt Hoseok’s hot cum inside you.

“How long is that gonna take to go down?” Jungkook asked, nodding toward where you and Hoseok’s bodies were joined together as he fixed his clothing. Hoseok was still breathing hard, kneading a hand into your thigh to try and release some tension from standing in the same position for so long. He carefully lifted you up so you were standing, back against his chest.

“Only about ten minutes.” Hoseok yawned. Jungkook took off his jacket, setting it on the ground. Immediately, Hoseok dragged you down to sit in his lap as you bathed in post orgasmic bliss.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” he murmured to you, cradling you in his arms. You smiled at him and Jungkook. “Full.” You commented, making them both giggle in response.

“Thanks for playing with me, Y/N~ I’ll try and convince Taehyungie to stop and get some ice cream for all of your efforts. You were such a good girl.” Hoseok said. You smiled, kissing his cheek before reaching a hand out to Jungkook. He squatted next to you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Jimin’s probably wondering what’s taking us so long.” Jungkook commented, not seeming very concerned. His phone hadn’t buzzed, so it either slipped Jimin’s mind or he had more confidence in all of you than he admitted.

“Oh, he knows exactly what happened and you know it. No one can resist this little bunny.” Hoseok said, patting a hand on your thigh. You only smiled in response.

It was true. No one really could resist you.

#bts smut #bts fanfic #bts #hybrid bts #bts hybrid au #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #hybrid jungkook #jimin x reader #jimin smut #park jimin x reader #park jimin #jung hoseok #hybrid hoseok #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #hoseok fanfic

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thepencilnerd · 5 years

Text

Melophile | Part I

melo·phile- noun; a person with great love and affluent passion for music

➵ A piano major and a composition major collaborating for a final semester project. It seemed straightforward, right? But what if you were forced to pair up with the school’s most problematic genius, Min Yoongi? Add to that the fact that he absolutely hated your guts and you had the perfect recipe for disaster. How can someone you’ve never even met before despise you like a sworn enemy? Getting to know each other was hard enough, but what happens when the most beautiful, painful, and darkest secrets force the two of you to expose the thing you each guarded the most—your own emotions?

➵ pairing: min yoongi x reader

➵ genre: AU! enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, slow-ish burn

➵ word count: 16k (sorry mobile readers)

➵ warnings: swearing, heavy angst, discussions of depression, rough sex, biting, marking, hair pulling, cumplay/eating, impreg kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), i’m screaming while writing these warnings

a/n: this was originally supposed to be a single post, but i’ve split it up into two. the second part can be found on my masterlist or under the #melophile ^^

Second, third, second, first, second, fourth—

“Again,” the voice snapped sternly.

Breathing deeply, you closed your eyes shut and clenched down on your teeth before playing again.

Second, third, second, first, second, third, fifth, fourth—

“Stop.” Letting out another sigh for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, your professor took off his glasses before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why don’t we call it a day?”

Biting down on your tongue, you gave a curt nod and agreed reluctantly. Glancing at the clock, you saw that it was already fifteen minutes before nine.

“An hour and fifteen minutes of dealing with my bullshit. A new record,” you scoffed silently to yourself.

You hesitantly thanked your professor before holding the door for him and seeing him out. Today was a rough day. The whoosh of the door escorted you back into the cold room as your legs carried you back to the grand piano. Your relationship with Professor Powell was—complicated—to say the least. Although he was like a father figure to you and was the one who gave you the opportunity to attend university in the first place, it was always difficult to maintain a healthy student-teacher relationship, especially in the field of the arts. Hungry and impatient to improve, it was the teacher’s responsibility to make sure that they pressured their students but also know their limits. Push too much and they’d suffer the possibility of a mental breakdown, but not enough and the years of time, work and patience would all be for nothing

Taking a few minutes to massage your cramping fingers and tender wrists, you couldn’t help but burn holes and glare at your own hands.

“Is it really that fucking hard to follow the stupid numbers written on the damn sheet music? Useless. Absolutely useless,” you swore.

After another minute of self-deprecating criticism and voiceless outrage, you felt your throat constrict as frustration welled up inside your chest as questions of your own purpose began to arise. What were you doing with your life? Was this stupid degree really worth it? How were you even going to get a job with a degree in music?

“Idiot...” You muttered to yourself but stared coldly at the wooden creature directly in front of you. Cracking your knuckles, you took in a deep breath, held it for two seconds, and exhaled as calmly as you could. Concentrating on the finger numbers scribbled down above the notes, you gulped in anticipation, determined to get the last line of the piece down by tonight. One more time.

You’d been here since lunch and even opted to skip dinner just to save an hour to practice. Your professor sometimes came in at random to help supplement your practice hours, but it almost always ended up with him leaving an hour later, equally frustrated at the level of progress you hadn’t accomplished. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t do well under pressure, but you understood where he was coming from. Playing was hard, but playing with an audience was even harder.

Playing the first few minutes of Chopin’s Fantaisie Impromptu had now become a breeze, but the last section was always the part where you couldn’t take it anymore. Your fingertips became sweatier than a marathon runner’s forehead, your hands cramped like divers who had the bends, and your wrists felt like they had brick blocks tied to them at the joint.

14 sheets, seven pages, 138 measures, sixteenths on the right hand, and triplets on the left. The pain, tireless hours of practice, and feeling of desperation in the pursuit of the perfect chance to play— all that for six minutes of pure, unadulterated beauty. The puzzle pieces that clicked together in perfect harmony. In that precise moment, it was pure bliss.

In that exact moment, it was just you and the music.

You couldn’t describe how free you felt when you played. Each time your fingertips pressed down on the weighted keys, the melodic sound that reverberated deeply and throughout the room was what you lived for. It was a last-minute whim decision when you chose piano as your major. Sure, you’d been playing it since you were a child and loved it more than anything else, but you secretly worried that they’d fear for your future. Understandable, considering their generalized opinions on art majors, but thankfully, they were nothing short of supportive.

Originally, you planned to get into the business trend like everyone else. Truth be told, you didn’t know what you wanted to be, and that scared you, so it seemed like a safe, cookie-cutter option. While your classmates stressed out about finals, entrance exams, extracurriculars, job hours, and college applications, you went through a phase of feeling adrift. Lost, confused, conflicted, and utterly desperate in search of what you wanted to pursue in life, your overwhelmed mind remembered that you actually played an instrument.

You would be lying if you said the idea initially didn’t terrify you. What would you do with a degree in the music field? Playing was always a self-satisfying activity rather than something you did for attention, so you had no desire to play for an audience, therefore, playing as an accompanist was out of the question. To add to it, you couldn’t compose new pieces to save your life, so being a producer was also checked off early. Then you came across the idea of being a music teacher, which for some blindly stupid reason, you didn’t think first. Money was never the ultimate goal for you, and the opportunity to share your passion and knowledge with others clicked with you instantly.

Getting admitted into one of the country’s best art universities was something that you never envisioned happening in your wildest dreams. The audition was the first time you had ever played for an actual audience, and to say it went perfectly would be a painfully embarrassing lie. It was also your first time playing a high-quality grand piano, which added to the already intense pressure. You remember all-too-clearly how your fingers fumbled over the glossy, attributed to how you weren’t used to the feel of the new model of instrument, and you even messed up on the middle section of the piece. However, somehow, through the unexplainable, miraculous, and impossible powers of the universe, the panel of professors saw something in you and admitted you on a partial scholarship.

That short-lived period was already four years ago, and you were now in your second year of your master’s degree in the school’s associated graduate school. One more year and you were ready to venture off into the world as an adult.

Shaking off the storm of flashbacks and anxiety of foreshadowing you didn’t have the capacity to deal with right now, you turned back to the crumpled pages in front of you. Starting from the very beginning, your fingers began carrying themselves across the keyboard, allowing your muscle memory to come in swifter than a lightning strike. Scanning over the tornado of notes with quick eyes, your heart began beating faster as a familiar ache began to spread throughout your fingers. Pushing through the middle measure before the end, you willed yourself to get it right this time.

Once the ending excerpt began, you begged your hands to hold on for another minute. That was all you needed. Just one more minute…

Before you knew it, you had already sped through the remaining bars of music and finally made it to the last line, slowing down the tempo and letting the last few notes reverberate as they faded to quiet nothingness.

You did it.

Shooting up from the crinkly leather seat, you hopped around like a sugar-high energizer bunny. You finally did it. Nine treacherous hours of fruitlessly pounding at the keys and nearly tearing your hair out, and you finally did it. Maybe it was the delirium from yesterday’s all-nighter or the hunger starting to kick in, but you suddenly felt a rush of blood make its way to your head, causing you to clutch your temple and hunch over the piano for support. Taking it as a signal from your body that it was on the brink of breaking down, you decided to call it a night.

Packing up your things, you bid one last farewell to the creaking percussion instrument before clicking off the lights and leaving the room.

It was always a breathtaking experience walking through campus. The rustic buildings, blooming plant life, bustling students, and even the poorly paved concrete sidewalk made it all the more like home. As a student in the art department of the school, the secondary campus was smaller but more well-spaced than the main campus. Rather than have a bundle of tightly-knit classrooms arranged directly next to each other, the arts campus consisted of three main buildings that were spaced far apart and divided by green lawns and tree-lined pathways.

You were so distracted by your dream-like trance, you didn’t realize that you were already five minutes late for your lecture. Murmuring a string of curse words at yourself, you nearly ran into a lamppost before dashing across the lawn to class.

In a record time of two minutes, you managed to make it to the front door of the lecture hall. Willing yourself to breathe rhythmically to slow down your racing heart and strained panting, you slowly opened the door to see that an exponentially large number of students were still shuffling into their seats. Thankfully, Professor Powell was also in the midst of organizing the scattered papers on his desk but noticed you poking your head through the cracked open door. Ushering you in with a collected welcome, you bowed your head in a silent nod of appreciation and scurried to the few remaining seats available.

Looking around the strangely crowded room, you saw that the usual number of 20 to 30 people was now a lump sum of about 40 people. You recognized about half of the ones as those who shared your major, but the remaining were complete strangers. A loud cough and clapping of hands silenced the chattering students, making everyone turned their attention to the front of the class.

“Thank you all for making it today,” he announced. “You may have noticed that—”

The sound of the door swinging open halted the professor’s words as a student waltzed in. Sporting a black hoodie with torn jeans to match, you could barely make out the few stray hairs of beige blonde hair that poked out from underneath. His piercing stare could practically be felt from a mile away, and he made no comment or apology for his late entrance. Not even giving a second look to Professor Powell, the blonde boy found himself an empty seat in the back of the class, causing everyone around him to shift uncomfortably. Tossing his backpack carelessly to the floor, his presence alone was threatening enough to send chills down your spine.

Clearing his throat, the professor composed his thoughts before resuming speaking. “As I was saying,” he hummed. “You may have noticed that today’s class is particularly ample and that there are a few faces that aren’t in this major.”

The students all looked around in unison, picking out the faces they could clearly recognize and ever-so-slightly frowning in confusion at the ones they didn’t. A wave of quiet murmurs spread across the entire room, causing Professor Powell’s hands to clap aloud once more in an attempt to gather everyone’s attention.

“If you’ll all direct to the syllabus being handed out to you, you will find the rubric of your semester final project,” he enunciated. As if by cue, the person directly in front of you passed you a thick stack of papers. Peeling a page from the mountain of sheets, your eyebrows cinched together at the bold text.

MUS302 Semester Final Project

GROUP ASSIGNMENT IN COLLABORATION WITH THE SCHOOL’S THEORY-COMPOSITION MAJORS.

PAIRS WILL BE ASSIGNED.

“Now,” his voice boomed. “I’m aware that we still have four months before final exams are administered, but since this is a special occasion, you may find the extra time useful.”

You couldn’t hold back the nasal ‘hmph’ that escaped your throat. This had to be a practical joke. Your professor was never one to assign group projects, and this was certainly something that had never been done once in the history of the entire school. What was different? Apparently, you weren’t the only one who was dumbfounded at the news. A hum of voices began to arise as all the kids in the classroom began whispering to each other, the pre-meditated gossip already spreading like wildfire.

“I know that group projects aren’t exactly a common occurrence in this class and a collaboration with a group of students in a different major has never been done before, but music does not discriminate.” His firm words seemed to silence the loudmouths, replacing their incessant chatter with a few awkward coughs.

“This project will be worth 65% of your final grade and will replace your usual paper-formatted exam. It is mandatory, there will be no excuses, makeups, grade curves or supplementary extra credit, and it will go on your permanent transcript.” Taking the silent air in the classroom as an indication of their understanding, he managed to force out a tight smile through his enunciated words.

“Alright then. I will be choosing your partners for you and there will be no switching. Complain and email me about it and it will result in an automatic fail.” Sensing his stern tone, no one dared utter as much as a single moan of disapproval.

Professor Powell had a reputation for being one of the strictest teachers in the entire school, and it didn’t come without a reason. Within the first week of the semester, nearly half of the students always dropped his class. Although the reasons ran few and far between the inflexible grade curve and his borderline terrifying aura, not a single person doubted his raw ability and talent in the field of music. He was a legend and to learn under him was an honor in and of itself.

You were eternally grateful that you were able to get on his good side from the first time you encountered him at your audition, but that didn’t stop him from pushing equally, if not, even harder, than the rest of his students. His ardent passion for music and methods of teaching were of a caliber you’d never witnessed before and from the moment you stepped inside his classroom, you knew he would ignite and fuel your love for music more than flaming embers themselves.

“I will call your names in pairs and you will come up, sign your names on this sheet, and collect your partner record sheets. On this sheet, you will write down the dates and hours in which you have spent working on the assignment together—” he emphasized, “—and the progress you have made if any. Details of the project will be explained once everyone is all paired up.”

He began calling out random names in couples of two. The process of walking down the tiered seating, awkwardly greeting each other, signing names, and trudging back to their seats became so repetitive, you didn’t even notice that your name wasn’t called.

The professor's voice boomed once more, snapping you out of your daze. “If you were not called, please come see me after class.” Instantly, the people who shared your classes all turned to face you like a stack of falling dominos. Was it really that obvious? You weren’t aware that anyone knew your name, let alone the fact that you even existed.

Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you tried to ignore the feeling of burning stares as you listened intently to what Professor Powell had to say next. You even went as far as taking notes to try and distract yourself from the eyes that lingered.

“This project is all about vulnerability.” His choice of words was surprising. Rather than go with the trust and teamwork trope, he decided to play the liability card. “You and your partner will be responsible for constructing an entirely new piece that embodies your two souls as musicians.” The sudden and clearly obvious attempt at being dramatic caused a couple chuckles to erupt from the room, making the professor laugh lightly as well.

“The piece should be a mixture of classical piano and may or may not involve the use of the composition majors’ programs or software. The time limit is a maximum of six minutes and the bare minimum is two. The piece needs to be one that constitutes who you are as artists,” he articulated. “The audience needs to see—feel—who you are through the music. Your happiest and most beautiful memories, your deepest secrets, and even your most painful experiences. Therefore, this requires you to get to know each other not just as musicians and creators but as human beings. Everything needs to be laid out on the table.”

Holding his hands behind his back, he started pacing slowly across the classroom, intent on making sure that the class understood the magnitude of importance this project encompassed. “You will argue, laugh, smile, cry, and you may even want to tear each other’s throats out with your teeth like feral packs of starving wolves—but know this; no matter the journey or path you choose to venture on, I guarantee that you will all come out of this as stronger musicians and even better artists.”

Everyone was nose-deep in their notebooks, jotting down each and every single word that came out of the professor’s mouth in an effort that it would secure them a better grade. Of course, you knew better than anyone that success in this class was never shown—it was earned.

“The deadline is the same week as finals and each piece will be performed in the school’s concert hall.” Looking around at the already-tired and worn out students, he opted to be the bearer of good news for the day. “I’ll be nice and let you all out early today,” he chuckled. “Go on and—”

Even before he finished his sentence, everyone was scurrying out of the class like a pack of rabid wolves eager for a new hunt. Sighing in exhaustion from the night before, your eyes wandered around the vacant classroom and settled on the black hooded figure sat across the room. Startled to see that he was glaring at you, you started hiccuping. Picking up your bag, you panicked and hurried to the front of the classroom, remembering what your professor had said about not having your name called.

“Professor?” you peeped quietly, already anxious at what he was going to say.

Pausing the shuffling of his papers, he turned to face you. “Ah, _____,” he noted. Beckoning to someone behind you, you could only assume the worst as the sound of scuffling feet made its way to you. “You will be working with Yoongi for this project.”

An audible gulp escaped when you tried to swallow down your apprehension. Facing the figure that was now standing beside you, he had taken off his hood, leaving his messy beige blonde hair exposed in all its glory. Now that you were standing close to him, you even saw the glint of a small hoop earring when the sunlight bounced off of his ear. You forced out an apprehensive smile and held out your hand as a greeting. The passing silence gave you an opportunity to study his facial features as well. With smooth pale skin, angular cat-eyes, and a soft but chiseled face to tie it all together, it would be a sin to deny that he was indeed good looking.

‘Heartbreaker,’ you immediately thought.

“I’m _____,” you greeted as warmly as you could, given the tension in the air. Why was he acting like you’d just kidnapped and hopped past three state borders with his pet hamster? Exactly four seconds had passed, (yes, you counted) and he simply raised an eyebrow at your feeble attempt at a civilized handshake. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, making you wonder if he was too lazy to pull them out or if he acted like this with the general population. To save your already-bruised ego, you opted to go for option C. Maybe his hands were cold.

Still quirking an eyebrow at your hand, you quickly lowered it, looping your finger under the strap of your backpack to hide your embarrassment. “I’m aware,” he commented dryly. Furrowing your brows slightly, you tried not to show your evident confusion. Had you two met before?

“Ahem. _____, I’d like to politely introduce you to Mr. Min Yoongi; your equal in my composition class,” the professor filled in, trying to ease the tension. “He is another one of the school’s prodigies and my star students, so I thought it’d be best if the two of you partnered together for this project. Seeing as you two excel greatly in your respective fields and are of the highest ranking in your major, it should be a breeze.” Professor Powell drawled out the last word, making you quirk your head. His tone was too sarcastic for your liking.

“Pleasure,” Yoongi said with a hoarse purr in his voice, lifting his chin as a makeshift nod of acknowledgment, you pressed your lips together tightly in response. He still had his hands tucked in his pockets. When you turned back to Professor Powell, he had already gathered his things and was waving goodbye, the closing whoosh of the door leaving you alone with the cold embodied demon of a boy. Great.

“Do you want to—” You tried to initiate a conversation but were cut off by his immediate words.

“Here’s my number. Text me when you want to work on the project. Don’t bother if it’s about anything else.” With a sullen and near spiteful tone, he handed you a torn piece of paper with a scribble of numbers on it. Just as you were about to ask him if he had time today, he was already out the door.

You scoffed. “What the hell is his problem?” you seethed. It wasn’t like you had crossed paths with him, nor were you aware of any instances in which you’d even met him. Hell, you didn’t even have any friends.

Examining the bundle of scribbles on the torn piece of paper, you begrudgingly added the number into your phone.

“Min...” You began typing but smirked when another nickname came into mind. “Min Salty.” Not the best nickname you could’ve come up with, but wasn’t any worse than his shitshow of an attitude. Raking your hands through your hair in sheer frustration, you told yourself to calm down and compose yourself. You had to push through for the project. This grade meant everything and you’d be damned if you let some jerkwad of a pre-pubescent boy mess it up for you.

Two weeks passed and you had yet to speak to Yoongi about the project. You could have messaged to him as soon as he gave you his number, but each time you typed up a text to send, it ended up being saved as a draft. Your pride mocked you, asking questions like, “Why hasn’t he texted you?” or “Why should you be the one to text first?” In reality, it didn’t matter who texted who and it was past the line of being childish. If that was the case, then why couldn’t you just press the stupid fucking send button?

In actuality, you were the least bit ashamed to admit that you were intimidated by him. Whenever you tried to approach him in the hallways during passing periods, you were met with a menacing glare that made you curl back into your shell like a hermit crab. On top of that, whenever you did manage to single him out in the crowded parts of the campus, he’d oh-so-conveniently start walking in the exact opposite direction, almost as if he was purposely avoiding you.

Then the fateful day came when you gathered all the courage you could muster and caught him strolling into the on-campus café. You had him cornered. Entering the comfy bistro, the familiar chime of bells and the warm scent of ground coffee welcomed you with open arms.

Searching through the crowded tables, your eyes landed on a single person sitting alone by the window booth. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Perching his hand under his chin while looking through the clear glass, his eyes bore the same expression as they did when you first met them; rigid and burning with intensity, yet lost and precarious. When he turned his head around, his stare widened for a moment when he noticed you. Quickly ducking down, you shifted your jaw and huffed. Did he think you were blind or something?

Puckering your lips, you marched over to the booth while feigning conviction in your walk. Fake it until you make it, right? At least, that’s what all the cool kids used to say...

“Hi,” you greeted as you sat down. Yoongi’s eyes refused to me yours and kept writing down notes, choosing to maintain his focus on his laptop screen. “Hey,” he replied curtly. Biting down on your lower lip, you pulled out your laptop and began talking about the project. It wasn’t worth it to pick a fight today. You had a project to start.

“So I was thinking—”

“I have to get to my next lecture,” he droned, voice completely null and void of any detectable honest emotion. “Text me later.” Jotting down something quickly in his notebook, he folded up his stuff and practically shoveled it into his bag before getting up and running off.

“But—” you sputtered. But of course, he was already out the door. Judging by his short paces and urgency to get as far away from you as possible, he was probably skittering halfway across the campus by now.

Clenching your jaw, you bit down as hard as you could on your teeth as if you were getting stitches without anesthesia. What the actual hell was his problem? Did you say something that offended him? Were you secretly the reincarnation of someone who murdered him in his past life? Then you found yourself asking the same question once again: Had you even met him before this semester?

Hunching over the table, your fist slammed down on the wooden surface, earning a few judgmental stares here and there from bystanders. Complain to the professor and get a fail. Partner with Min Yoongi and get a fail. “Work” with Min Yoongi and get a fail because the word itself would entail absolutely nothing, therefore, nothing would actually ever get done.

It was at that moment you realized that you were absolutely and royally fucked.

Another week passed and you were already past the point of giving up. You managed to catch Yoongi a few more times and have a 15-second conversation with him before he bullshitted that he had a lecture to go to.

Yoongi was intentionally avoiding you. The best part?

You hadn’t a single clue why. Even though it was pointless to mope around and sulk like a wilting houseplant, you still made it to your daily self-practice sessions. Strangely enough, your professor never made any well-timed entrances during the midst of your playing, making you wonder whether it was because of the project or if he was simply busy with other things.

After three weeks of stressing out over the project that you hadn’t even started yet, a night well-spent in the practice room seemed like the perfect way to blow off some steam. Sure, playing while you were at your happiest and most joyful was the most enjoyable experience, but grazing and striking down on the keys while you were holding something deep inside of you was something entirely different. It was almost an out-of-body release; physically, emotionally, and mentally.

Once you were trapped in the practice room for a couple of hours and finished pounding out your frustrations, (and hearing the growl of your stomach) your mind was exhausted and spent. You could’ve sworn that you heard a distant humming of music coming from the room next door, but maybe it was just your ears playing tricks on you. No one else was ever here at this hour...

When it didn’t fade after a couple seconds, you started to get creeped out. Poking your head through the crack of the door and into the dimly lit hallways, you looked left and right as you tried to find the source of the humming. Were the ceiling pipes leaking? A minute of trying to think of what the sound could be when a loud thump reverberated four doors down from yours.

Tip-toeing carefully to the slightly ajar door, you crinkled your face each time your shoes squeaked on the floor. Now that you were in front of the door, the humming and thumping wasn’t actually just white noise, but rather the sound of a melodic chorus playing from inside.

The euphonious sound of the piano and an added bass made your eyes drift shut, the harmony of the notes slowly lulling you into a trance of serene relaxation. You couldn’t hold back your curiosity any longer. Telling yourself you’d regret it later, you stood up from your hunched position and glanced through the clear pane of the door. Moonlight streaked into the enclosed space and onto the glossy shell of the piano, bouncing off and reflecting onto the face of a person.

Min Yoongi.

Your mouth parted in surprise. Why was he here this late? Did he compose this himself? Was this for the project? A plethora of questions suddenly plagued your mind—but the most prominent of all presented itself on a silver platter.

Why wasn’t he playing?

You narrowed your eyes and blinked forcefully, trying to see if your eyes were deceiving you. There was music playing and it was, in fact, coming from this exact room. However, his hands were resting comfortably on his lap and his eyes seemed to be staring with disdain at the instrument.

“It must be coming from the speakers...” you thought. “Of course, it’s coming from the speakers, you idiot...”

The music suddenly shifted in tone; the bass became heavier, the tempo quickened, and a synth pad followed an orchestra of strings. As the piano keys slowly thinned out into a hushed melody, it went from being the main instrument at the start of the piece to nothing more than background static.

With each passing section, the piece became darker as the once soothing melody became distressed and tortured. Yoongi was sitting as calmly as ever in the leather chair of the piano. Resting with a slight hunch in his back, his head was leaning to one side as he continued to stare ominously at the uncovered black and white keys.

When the piece reached the end of its crescendo, the tune ended abruptly without a brighter finishing section or lively coda. It was over. At the same moment, Yoongi’s blank gaze found its way to yours. He blinked out of his sullen daze and when your eyes met each other’s you could’ve sworn his eyes were watering. Remembering that your mouth was still parted, you clamped your jaw shut and widened your eyes. Then, without giving it a second thought, you sprinted down the hall and ran across the campus back to the dorms.

For the rest of the night, you couldn’t find it in yourself to fall asleep. Every fiber of your being tossed and turned throughout the night as your mind desperately tried to repress the question. Hours of sweating, shuffling around in the blankets, and a couple bathroom trips later, you kicked off the covers and placed your hand on your burning forehead. It was no use—the question burned a hole inside your heart like a raging fire that showed no signs of extinguishing.

What was Min Yoongi hiding?

Throughout your life, you hadn’t had the honor of meeting many people who had infuriated you half as much as Min Yoongi did. The end of another unproductive week was nearing and you had yet to start on the project. Enough was enough.

Throwing your things into your backpack, you thanked your teacher for the class and then proceeded to dash across the lawn to the Bungalow Building. Weeks of constantly trying to find Yoongi and catch him by the collar after class had left you with detailed knowledge of his schedule and classes. Others may call it stalking, but you preferred to call it chance determination.

Standing outside door 240, you stood anxiously on your heels while you waited for the students to pour out. When they did, you peeked in to see Yoongi slouched on his desk, clearly in no hurry judging by how sluggishly he was collecting his things. It was now or never.

Waving a small greeting and excusing yourself for entering the classroom, you gestured to Yoongi in the hopes that the professor would understand. Thankfully, she simply smiled in return and carried on with her business of gathering papers.

You practically skipped like a child to where he was sat, satisfied at the revelation that he had nowhere to run. Standing over his desk, you slammed your palms onto his table and made him jump at the sudden impact. His eyebrows turned into a questioning frown and he stared at you with a vacant expression.

“We’re working on the project today.” Stating your main point firmly, his mouth opened to say something, but you weren’t letting him win today.

“Don’t say that you have to get to a lecture because I know damn well that this was your last class for today. Professor Powell told me that you don’t work so you don’t exactly have a job that you need to go to, so you can cross that off of your excuse list, too,” you rambled.

His mouth was still parted open, but his face suddenly morphed into an awestruck smirk. Your heart was pouring out the never ending buckets of frustration and humiliation, and at this point, it was evident to you that your emotions had full control over your head.

“To add to that, our project is due in three months and we have spent the past month doing absolutely nothing, and I’m not sure about you, but I don’t exactly plan on failing this class because my asshole of a partner hates my guts for some godforsaken unknown reason.”

Taking a moment to take in a much-needed breath of air, Yoongi shut his mouth and nibbled on the inside of his cheek in order to hold back a cocky grin. Darting his tongue out to wet his lips, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and stood up, height now towering over you.

“I was going to say that I got started on the first subject,” he grinned with pure insolence saturating his voice. Studying your reaction with heavy eyes, he raised his eyebrow for a split second as arrogance practically seeped from every speck of his face.

His unintentional actions and fully intentional methods of provoking you all these weeks had indeed tested your patience, but also helped you grow a thick skin to rebuke his antics. All you could do was clench down on your jaw and compel yourself to grin.

“Off to the café then?” you offered, voice sounding a little too sweet for your own good. Shrugging nonchalantly, he trailed behind you as the two of you began en route to the place where you would hopefully manage to get something done. Strong emphasis on hopefully.

As you eyes grazed over the waves of notes, you could only bear an expression of awe and amazement; the chorus was breathtaking.

“You wrote this?” you coughed, nearly sputtering out your coffee.

Swishing his drink around his mouth carelessly, he gave you a curt nod.

“Why didn’t you–you should’ve called or—” Your brain was short circuiting like a cheap computer monitor as you tried to find the right words to say. “This is supposed to be a group project, we have—”

“I work better alone.” He stated it as if it were a fact that everyone with common sense knew by heart.

Gulping down another mouthful of your scorching hot drink, you told yourself that the burning sensation was just the liquid courage doing its work, gathering the confidence to carry on the conversation. “Is this what you were playing in the studio the other day?”

In the process of bringing the porcelain cup to his lips, he froze halfway. His Adam's apple bobbed and he licked his lips before setting the cup back down. “I wasn’t playing...” he replied quietly, staring at his hands that were now fumbling in his lap.

Tension immediately filled the air as you ran out of things to say. “Do you hate me?” you asked bluntly. Judging by the way his eyes shot up immediately and widened, you took it as a sign that he was taken aback by your straightforward and bold query.

“I—” he stuttered. “I don’t—”

Seeing the way his tongue tangled on his words made you let out an amused chuckle. It was the first time you’d witnessed his cool guy image crack. Gaining newfound confidence at the way he crumbled, you leaned forward and leaned your cheek against your hand, propping up your elbow.

“Why?” you asked simply. There had to be some kind of reason, right?

“I don’t hate you,” he answered firmly, his cold personality resurfacing once again. “Can we get back to the project now?”

Narrowing your eyes at his defensive attitude, you opted to go for your second icebreaker. “What were you doing alone in the studio that late?”

Yoongi’s eyes remained stone cold when he spoke. “What were you doing in the studio that late?” he retorted. His smart mouth made you want to wipe the table with his smirking face.

Deciding to drop the topic, you bit your tongue to told back the flurry of curse words that would definitely explode if you opened your mouth. “What do you want the theme for the piece to be?” Thinking quick on your feet, you remembered that you had an assignment to work on.

“Do you usually write—” you paused to try and think of a way to say it that wouldn’t offend him. “—mellow tempo songs?”

“If you’re asking if I only write depressing shit, the answer should be obvious,” he spat out harshly. You swore his mood changed quicker than the water pressure in your dorm shower.

“I just wanted to get to know you as a person. What kind of music you like to listen to, the genres you prefer to write—” you rambled nervously, trying to back up your earlier question.

Slamming down his cup onto the table, you were couldn’t tell what surprised you more—the fact that the cup didn’t shatter or that he was already ticked off. “How about you stop acting like you’re genuinely interested in getting to know me for the sake of a fucking project and focus on getting this shit done as soon as possible?” he hissed through a locked jaw.

You couldn’t hold back the nasal huff that came out. “I’m not—”

But before you could defend yourself, Yoongi had already collected all of his things and stood up. Gritting his teeth, you could practically smell the smoke coming off of his head.

“Practice room 2B at 3:00 tomorrow. Don’t be late.” With the meetup sounding more like a threat than anything, he turned away and strolled out without as much as a second glance.

For as long as you could remember, you’d always been a fighter. Hardheaded would be another word for it, but you were too stubborn to even admit that. When the teacher finished up summarizing the lecture and thanked the class for their attendance, your heart instantly felt heavier. Each step you took closer to the designated practice room felt like trekking in quicksand. Why did you always seem to suffocate at the thought of Yoongi?

Occupied by your racing thoughts, you were already at the front of the practice room. Cracking open the door, your eyes instantly landed on Yoongi. He was sitting in front of the piano with an unreadable expression. Sorrow? Pain? Anger? Today, he was wearing a graffiti patterned black hoodie—with the hood slung over his head, of course—and his signature distressed jeans.

Coughing lightly, your presence broke him out of his trance. Raising his head to you in the same half-ass nod he gave you at your first meeting, you brushed it off, grateful that he even acknowledged you at all.

Yoongi stood up and pulled out a separate chair, placing it beside the piano so that it was a healthy distance from you and the instrument. Thanking him silently for giving you the leather seat, he took out a few pages of blank sheet paper and placed it on top of his notebook.

“Do you want to play what you came up with?” he asked dryly, clearly already bored out of his mind. Clearing your throat out of habit, your hands started to fumble with each other as your nerves washed over you yet again.

“Here’s the thing...” you started, chuckling awkwardly. “I’m really bad at composing structured pieces?” The confession came out in the form of a question rather than a fact due to your high-pitched voice. It took you by surprise when he didn’t interrupt you this time around.

Assuming you weren’t finished with your statement, Yoongi kept his eyes glued on you with an eyebrow raised. God, you could practically drown yourself in the amount of hypercriticism he emitted.

“But I’m pretty sub-par at improvising,” you quickly said, hoping you would be able to make it at least two minutes without getting on his bad side today.

Leaning back into his chair, he set his notebook down and crossed his arms. “Go for it,” he exhaled, gesturing to the piano with a jut of his chin.

With cold hands, scratchy throat, a racing heart, and nerves that almost made you hiccup, your fingers touched the keys and instantly made you feel at ease. Closing your eyes, you stroked over the smoothly glazed plaques of wood and breathed in deeply, tuning out your surroundings like the flick of a light switch.

You started off with a soft waltz; simple, light, and sweet. The tune took you back to the days of your first piano lessons with your mother, the gentle melody making the memories of your carefree childhood resurface like swirls of smoke.

Improvising the second subject, you found yourself playing a much darker and somber chorus than you usually did. As you began pressing into the keys with an urgency you didn’t know you had, your memories became melancholy, bringing you to the times in high school; the long nights when you would walk through the empty field and think about what you wanted in life; the endless days when you felt lost; the feeling of emptiness that still lingered within you to this day.

“Everything needs to be laid out on the table,” you professor’s words echoed in your head like a broken record.

Coming to the end of the phrase, your mind wandered to the future, envisioning a life where you would not only be successful and make lots of money, but have a career in your field of passion; one where you could spread your love of music with others and maybe help them find themselves as well.

Transitioning smoothly into the familiar style you usually stuck with, the lighthearted song filled the room like morning fog. Soon enough, the piece came to an end, and you were left in the quiet space that was the studio. Your fingers still lingered on the keys, the tingling sensation of satisfaction and self-accomplishment lasting for only as short as the piece had gone by.

Finally pulling away from the keyboard, you turned your head to see Yoongi studying the piano with a half-lidded gaze. Snapping his head out of his trance-like state, he swallowed tentatively and nodded his head.

“You were right,” he started. “You are pretty sub-par at improv.”

You took slight offense to his harsh and judgmental tone, but when you the smirk creep up on the corner of his lip, you punched his shoulder jokingly.

“Ass...” you mumbled, making him let out a ghost of a chuckle as well in response. Raising his hands up in defense, he shrugged his shoulders and made a playful expression. Was it you or did his mood just do a full 180?

Looking down into your lap, you massaged your hands habitually, the remnants of tingling nerves and rushing adrenaline still coursing through your fingertips. Whenever you were around Yoongi, moments between speaking always felt like ominous intervals before the next argument or uneasy pauses filled with dread, but the previous five seconds was a scene you’d pay a million dollars to relive over and over again.

“So, what does the genius Min Yoongi have in mind for the finalized piece?” you wondered out loud, taking his momentary decent mood as an opportunity to spark up a civil conversation for once. Rubbing the back of his neck, he hung his head and stared at the ground awkwardly as his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek.

“That’s his thinking face…” you noted. For some reason, you had a gut feeling that you’d become well-acquainted with it by the end of the semester.

“Let’s just start from the beginning,” he replied, speaking more to himself than to you. Reorganizing the sheets of paper on his lap, he twirled his pencil in his hand and began scribbling down a series of notes. After a couple minutes of craning your neck at an uncomfortable angle to see what he was writing down, he placed the page onto the music rest in front of you.

Your jaw nearly unhinged from its socket.

Pointing at the fully marked sheet of paper, you were able to make out the sections of music you heard that night when he was alone in the practice room as well as parts of the improvised piece you had just played a mere few minutes ago.

“How the hell did you do that…” you spoke softly, staring in complete awe. Raising an eyebrow as if you had just asked what color grass was, it took him a few seconds before he comprehended your question.

“Oh. I’m pretty good at memorizing music,” he stated matter-of-factly. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Tucking your chin down and staring at him with an ‘are you being serious right now’ expression, your jaw was still agape. “Yoongi, you memorized and transcribed a piece that I practically pulled out of my ass and combined it with yours perfectly.”

When you tried to emphasize each word so that he would be able to understand your shell-shocked state, he just shrugged. You even counted the four words you dragged out on your fingers, but he could have cared less.

“Like I said,” he spoke with a pout. “It’s not a big deal.”

“But—" you stuttered.

Cracking his neck to stop you from blubbering any more nonsense, he pointed to the page in front of you. “Do you want to get this project started or what?” Nodding a little too enthusiastically for your own good, the two of you went to work on the piece.

Days blurred into weeks as you and Yoongi started to warm up to each other. Some days, you’d find yourselves getting overwhelmed by the blurred papers of notes and out-of-tune chords, and the only way you refrained from murdering each other was to take long breaks. Sometimes you’d talk and other times it’d just be five minutes of painful silence.

“It’s not right,” Yoongi huffed to himself. Running his hands through his hair, he slanted his head and scowled at the piano.

Freezing your hands and hovering over the keys you’d just played, you felt your mouth go chalky. “Are you– do you mean the chord or– the way I played it?” you squeaked, not entirely used to his unpredictable temper tantrums.

Waving his hands assuringly, he shook his head. “No, no, no, it’s not you,” he grumbled. “You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t worry.”

Blinking at his suddenly gentle temperament and caring response, you sat still for a few more seconds while he paced around the room with his copy of notes in hand. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you played from the beginning section of the excerpt, but rather than play the entire measure with the assigned minor chord, you switched a couple bars to their equivalent major key. This, in turn, caused the formerly sullen and melancholic tune to shift into a brighter and happier theme.

The slight change in scale made Yoongi’s ears perk up like a cat. Walking back over to where you were sat, he gestured with his hands in a circled scooping motion, urging you to repeat whatever you just did. Holding back a snort at his childish reaction, you shook your head and grinned as you replayed the excerpt.

Furrowing his brows in confusion, he looked at his sheets and at the keys you’d changed, moving back and forth between the keyboard and his notes. “Hmph...” he hummed against his throat. “Nice job.” Erasing a few of the notes and copying them down onto his paper, he tapped the sheet with the end of his pencil and waited for you to continue playing.

Nostrils flaring at the plain and seemingly backhanded compliment, you squinted your eyes and pushed out a forced toothless smile and accepted the recognition nonetheless.

“Yoongi?” Your voice came out hesitant.

Not looking up from the paper he was doodling on, he let out a faint 'hmph.’

“Why don’t you play?” The question came out in a whisper quiet enough not to disturb a sleeping baby.

Yoongi’s breath hitched in his throat immediately as he clenched his pen. Balling his other hand into a fist, his knuckles turned white at the sheer force, and his jaw muscles tensed with a ripple. Slamming his pen down, the crack of plastic could be heard throughout the room.

“I don’t play.” Although his answer was short and simple, his unnerving tone said otherwise.

“Bullshit,” you called out instantly. “Everyone in comp plays and you know the theory for it better than anyone.”

“Anymore,” he added, teeth gritting as his fist crumpled the piece of paper he was writing on.

“Why?” you asked mindlessly. He wasn’t getting away from you this easily. There had to be a reason.

“I just don’t, okay?!” he shouted all of a sudden. Shooting up from his seat, he lashed out at you with malice, hostility dripping like a deadly venom that had no antidote.

Collecting his things, he stomped out of the room and made sure to slam the door on his way out, leaving you alone in the room you had gotten too used to being by yourself in. Tears began to prickle your eyes but you swallowed them down along with the growing lump in your throat. You didn’t have a single reason to cry, let alone for him, so why did it seem like your emotions were betraying you?

Hiding in the alley next to the music building, Yoongi leaned against the cold brick wall for support. Breathing heavily, his throat was as dry as sandpaper and his tongue felt like it was superglued to the roof of his mouth, while his shaky hand was pressing on his chest, willing himself to calm down.

His pulse was racing faster than the engine of a sports car and it felt like his heart was pounding so hard against his ribcage that it was about to shatter. Each time he inhaled deeply, it was as if he didn’t have room to exhale and his lungs felt like they were balloons one single puff from bursting.

Shutting his eyes tightly, he counted backward from ten. The aching lump in his throat made its way up to his eyes as the budding tears made his eyes glassy.

“It’s not working,” he pointed out to himself. “Why isn’t it fucking working?”

The hands that were always buried inside his hoodie, still and unmoving were now shaking violently like drops of water on a burning hot and oiled pan. A gut-churning feeling began bubbling in his stomach as the visceral reaction at your statement triggered him into a full-blown panic attack.

“Just fucking breathe,” he panted, struggling to not choke between gulps of air.

Everything around him started to feel heavy as his limbs nearly collapsed under him like a row of dominoes. Bending down into a crouching position, he supported himself against the wall and tucked his head into his knees.

“It’s okay,” he told himself. “You’re okay.”

Squeezing his hands with a painful and near numbing amount of pressure, Yoongi took a few more deep breaths until his tears dried into stains on his cheeks.

Never again...

Slamming your fingers onto the chord, annoyance began to take over like a plague. This was the 44th time Yoongi had made you play the last segment of the piece. Forty. Fourth. He hadn’t asked you to, no, no no—he quote on quote “agitatedly requested” it.

“Yoongi,” you sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose as your elbows slammed onto the keys, producing a sickeningly unpleasant and revolting sound. For some reason, it actually made you feel relieved to hear a different sound that wasn’t the same set of chords that you’d been repeating or Yoongi’s incessant badgering.

“We’ve been trying to fix this for two hours straight and I’m sure nothing’s in need of fixing,” you reasoned. “Can we please just take a two-minute break?” Wincing unconsciously, your face contorted into a pained expression as you massaged your burning fingers and aching forearms.

There were three sections of the piece. Yoongi decided to construct the format based off of what a sonata would be; the exposition, development, and recapitulation. It was also fancy talk for a lively beginning, depressing middle, and a combined ending of the two.

If playing the 6-minute piece wasn’t torture enough, it was your genius idea to incorporate a thrilling finishing coda, which was basically a shitstorm of flying hands with steroid-filled trills, arpeggios, and staccatos. Therefore, it was safe to say that the last section of the entire piece was the most intense.

Although the test of stamina and muscle memory was also at play, Yoongi’s tastes in voicing certain keys and your style of playing couldn’t have been more different. You soon learned that his pieces required varieties of slow, soft and drawled out notes as well as hard and borderline violent slams of keys without any pedals. You also discovered that depending on the day, he was open to letting you have more creative freedom in playing with the tones and tempos, but today was not one of those days.

“Fine,” he grumbled, his voice making it evident that he hated nothing more than being hindered in his work process because of someone else’s problems.

Sighing in thanks, you spread your fingers apart into an outstretched position and accidentally cracked a few joints, hissing unexpectedly at the shooting pain that resulted from the action. Knitting his eyebrows into a quizzical frown, Yoongi sat down next to you without warning, startling you to scoot aside.

“Give me your hands,” he said. Guarding your hands close to your chest, you shot him a questioning stare before he rolled his eyes and grasped your wrist gently.

Letting out a pained yelp, you thought you saw his jaw clench in anger, but the facial tick disappeared as soon as it had appeared. Without saying anything, he began massaging your hands, relaxing your tense muscles.

Contorting your face at the soothing yet painful acupressure, you struggled to speak through the pain. “You don’t have to—”

“Shut up.” His eyes remained on your hands, examining them while kneading them as if they were finely carved marble sculptures. Whenever you tried to pull your hands away, he tsked at you and kneaded extra firmly into a particularly sore spot.

After a couple moments of silence, Yoongi was the first to speak. “Does Powell know?” You tilted your head, confused at his question.

Sighing, he paused his calming rubbing and lifted your hand up and held it still. Your eyes widened. It was impossible.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you laughed dryly, playing it off as a misunderstanding.

There was no way he knew.

“_____—” he spoke softly but you were the one to cut him off this time. Snatching your hand away from him a little too harshly, you turned back to the pages laid in front of you.

“Let’s get back to the piece,” you warned. Your sudden frigid tone made Yoongi swallow uneasily. It was the first time you had spoken to him in that kind of manner and even he was taken aback. He didn’t want to make you feel any more exhausted than you already were so he dropped it.

There was absolutely no way that he knew anything.

The red lights of your alarm clock flashed 10:57 p.m. Safe in the comfort of your cruddy single-student dorm room, you were in the process of brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed.

Dancing and hopping around like a maniac to a random indie playlist, your hall mates were away for the week-long school break. You felt it’d be best if you stayed and indulged in the empty campus. It was only a week anyway and the next long break wasn’t until after finals. As a result, the entire block of your dorm was empty and unoccupied, and you were a very happy camper.

With hair was still damp from your shower and wrapped up into a bun, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that it would be a dented mess by tomorrow. You almost swallowed the bubbles of toothpaste when you jumped along with the chorus of the song and the simultaneous buzz and ping of a notification sounded from your bed.

Tilting your head to one side, you contemplated who in the world would be texting you this late at night. Skipping in-beat with the music to your phone, your energetically bouncing shoulders slumped instantly when you read the text.

Min Salty: practice room 1A. i’m dying. [11:01]

You have got to be kidding. It was 11 o’clock on a Friday night and this lunatic was texting you to come and work on the piece? Wasn’t he away for break like everyone else? In the midst of typing out an excuse that you were sick, his name popped up on the screen in the form of a phone call.

Swiping the accept icon reluctantly, you managed to breathe into the microphone before his voice boomed through the speaker.

“Don’t try and bullshit anything, it’ll be quick,” he said bluntly. Did he plant a camera in your room or was he a psychic? “And bring an umbrella.”

With those two bored and uninterested sentences out of his mouth, he hung up on you with the bleep of the dial tone.

“Dick,” you swore. “Fucking dick.” If there was one thing that was certain, it was that your vocabulary had taken on an entirely new spectrum of colors since meeting Yoongi. Contemplating between nestling into the comfort of your warm bed and leaving him hanging, your inner empath wailed at the mere thought of it. It was raining cats and dogs and Yoongi was at the studio? Alone? Did he really not have anything else to do? Was he actually dying?

You groaned internally gave into the guilt that threatened to eat you alive. Throwing on a jacket over your jumper, you reconsidered whether you should put on a bra beforehand, but opted not to. Not only were you freshly showered and too lazy to take off and put on your clothes again, but Yoongi mentioned that it would be quick. Then again, he also said he’d work on the piece with you but we all know how long that ball took to get rolling. It’s not like he took an interest in you bare-faced or well-dressed anyway.

Forgetting that you broke the only umbrella you had last semester, you slung your hood over your face and crossed your arms around your body tightly. It had to be the one damned day it rained in February.

It took you two minutes to sprint from the dorms to the music building and you slipped twice on the wet concrete. You would’ve doubled over, too it if hadn’t been for the rusty lampposts, but regardless, you managed to make it to the building in one piece.

A dull, aching pain spread across the joints of your hands from being exposed to the howling wind and freezing cold drops of rain. Clenching your teeth in a pained grimace, you tucked your hands underneath your armpits in the hopes of keeping them covered until you went inside the studio. You really should’ve asked for mittens for Christmas.

Regret hit you when you realized that not wearing a thick coat might have been a mistake. Peeling the sopping wet jacket from your body, you wrung it out and shook it off, relieved that your sweater underneath was dry for the most part. It probably helped that you had a shirt on underneath, but it didn’t stop you from shivering when you walked into the practice room.

Yoongi was splayed across the couch inside. A couple of the practice rooms were large enough to hold a full-size piano as well as a couch for guests, and you wondered if they were that necessary or the school president was just that spendthrift.

Despite the freezing cold weather, he was still as fashionable as ever. Donning a thin white sweater and frayed black jeans, you scanned around the room to check if he had brought a jacket or coat or some sort. Your suspicions were confirmed when you spotted a bundle of black fabric too large to be a blanket but too small to be a single hoodie. Maybe it was oversized?

“You’re getting the carpet wet,” he mumbled, the throw of the couch wrapped around his body like a swaddle for a baby. His expression was colder than the air that nipped at your bare skin, but there was warmth there. Something you couldn’t grasp. Something flickering.

“I didn’t have an umbrella,” you quipped dryly. Tossing you a towel from thin air, you caught it before it managed to smack your face. Of course he’d aim it perfectly. Maybe he should’ve been a baseball pitcher. You gave him an odd look before trying to pat yourself dry, a fruitless endeavor really seeing as how drenched you were. “What do you want?”

Sitting up straight, he gestured to the unopened piano. “I wanted to hear you play.”

Slumping your neck forward and raising your brows, a scoff of amazement left your mouth. “Are you joking?”

He shook his head. “I was in my dorms alone and I was bored, so I figured why not pull your strings a little and have some fun while we’re at it.”

Your face froze in an expression of utter astonishment and disbelief. “That’s why you called me out in the middle of the night in the pouring rain? To play for you?” A puff of air made its way past your lips.

“And to work on a few details,” he tried to justify.

“This couldn’t have waited until, I don’t know—tomorrow?!” you shouted.

Raising the corner of his lip, he smirked. “I just wanted to talk,” he shrugged, feigning innocence. You wrapped the now-damp towel over your shoulders like a shawl. Seething with agitation, you sat down in front of the piano and took a long, deep breath.

“What would you like to talk about, Yoongi?” Speaking like an adult trying to control their temper while scolding to a child, the only reason you were sitting here was due to the fact that you refused to be near proximity of him. Also your dripping clothes were getting heavier by the minute. The cold wasn’t doing anything for your shivering stature, either.

“About you,” he answered, leaning back into the sofa.

Rolling your eyes, you sat with your hands tucked in between your thighs. They felt like blocks of ice. “If that’s all you called me out here for then I’d be happy to get back to you tomorrow over lunch.”

“Why haven’t you told Powell yet?” he asked frankly with an inquisitive stare.

Your teeth ground like gears in your mouth. “What’s there to tell him about?” you countered, trying to maintain collected.

Yoongi’s gaze darkened as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together in an intimidating manner. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t, frankly, and neither do you,” you corrected him with a stern voice.

“You really don’t think I know?” he scoffed, narrowing his eyes like freshly sharpened daggers. Standing up, he took slow and deliberate steps to where you were sat and cocked his head sideways as he scoffed. Was he being serious right now?

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” you repeated robotically, growing increasingly irked at him boring into you like this. Shaking your head in the realization that you didn’t have to deal with this bullshit, you picked up your jacket and stood up to leave. Maybe you’d be in the mood to deal with his antics tomorrow, but today, you were a ticking timebomb.

Spotting the fire he had set ablaze from a mile away, he spun you around by your shoulder and lifted your hand up so that it was the only wall separating both of your faces.

“You really don’t think I know?” he whispered through a clenched jaw.

Tensing your eyes into a glare, your nostrils practically blew off jets of steam as you yanked it down to your side. “Fuck off,” you mumbled. Stomping back to the door, the click of the knob was the thing that completely set Yoongi off.

“What’s going to happen to prodigy _____ when her professor finds out that she has RA?” he sighed, clicking his tongue pitifully between his teeth.

He knows.

With fists balled painfully tight, you felt your body temperature rising by the second. “Shut up,” you muttered under your breath, restraining yourself through tightly clenched teeth. If you bit down any harder, you were sure to hear the crunch of your enamel as if they were a mouthful of potato chips.

“Rheumatoid arthritis at 22,” he enunciated, articulating the medical term around his tongue as to poke fun at a sleeping bear. “What a shame...”

“Oh yeah?” you scoffed, reclaiming your position directly in front of him as you were now drunk with rage, delirium taking over all the common sense you had left. “What about you? Composition major Min Yoongi who doesn’t even play the fucking piano anymore and stays locked up in his studio like the banished Hunchback of Notre Dame? God knows why, huh?”

Running his tongue over his teeth, his smirk now resembled a snarl of frenzy and hysteria. “You want to talk about me?” Pulling down his sleeves angrily and lifting up his arms, you could barely make out the scattered patches of raised skin on the tops of his hands. The lines you assumed to be veins were too light in color and instead textured in the form of scratches, trailing all the way down to his forearms, finishing at his elbows. Looking closely, you could see clearly that they weren’t veins or patches of tanned skin at all—they were scars.

“Picture this: college Yoongi walking to the bus stop after finishing his 8-hour shift. Little did the gullible bastard know that some sugar daddy decided to take a little joyride in the dead of night with two bottles of whiskey in his system.” His deadly bitter tone made goosebumps prickle across your skin.

“Flash forward to half-an-hour later when his professor, of all people, found him knocked out cold in the middle of the street. When Yoongi got admitted into the ER, you know what the doctors said?” he chuckled drunkenly, hands that were balled in fists a mere three seconds ago now hung loosely by his sides.

Huffing briefly, his voice choked as it shifted to one filled with anguish. “We’re terribly sorry, but when he landed after being struck by the collision, his arms absorbed the initial impact and his radial nerve suffered extensive damage. Post-recovery, he may no longer be able to coordinate certain muscles in his hands and fingers.”

It was as if he’d memorized and repeated the post-op summary to himself far long after the accident occurred and it was engraved into his mind like a curse; one he would have to live with for the rest of his life.

You could only stare at his face with a parted mouth, unable to move a single inch.

“It’s actually hilarious if you think about it,” he snorted. “Two of the school’s prodigies dealing with secrets that are big enough to eat away at you like a disease. But it’s not like my life was as nice as yours before I got here, isn’t that right, princess?”

Furrowing your brows as your face morphed into one of pure confusion, you were taken aback at the sudden assumption. “What?”

“Come on,” he grinned malignantly. “Full scholarship, easy money, probably equally supportive and gushy parents, Goody Two Shoes in all of her classes—sounds like a textbook prude in my book.”

“My life—” you choked through a bitter laugh. “I don’t– I am not—” Bile rose in your throat as Yoongi began barking insults at you like an assailant. Sympathy quickly evolved into apathy at the change in direction of the conversation. What point was he trying to make?

Throwing his head back, he burst into a forced fit of wry laughter. “Everything in your life must be fucking perfect, princess.”

“Don’t call me that...” you said through clenched teeth, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the malicious grin that was coating his face. You were trying so hard to feel bad for him after what he’d just told you, but his abusive indignities made it all the more difficult.

Craning his head to one side, Yoongi stared at you with a raised brow, his pearly white teeth peeking through the cocky grin you wanted to slap off more than anything. “My bad, did I press a button?”

“Shut up.” You repeated the response like a mantra in your head, praying that if you said it enough times, it’d come true.

“It’s all beaming white diamonds and unicorns hopping over rainbows for Princess _____, isn’t it?” he seethed, laughter painfully sarcastic.

What the hell was he on?

“I have worked my ass off for everything in my life up until this point you unbelievably cocky, arrogant, narcissistic prick!” you exploded, words unfurling angrily like the tail of a seething dragon. “If you think I was handed the opportunities that I’ve been given on a silver platter, then you could not be more wrong.”

“And now it’s just a couple doctors appointments and a written diagnosis away from being taken away from you, isn’t that right, princess?” he butted in with a satisfied grin.

“Shut the fuck up,” you said louder this time. Blood rushed to your cheeks as you started to feel your nails dig into your palms, almost drawing blood. With white knuckles and a frantically pounding heartbeat, you were two breaths away from throwing a right hook at Yoongi’s pretentious face.

“What the hell is your problem, Yoongi? Is that why you called me here? To chew me out? Annoy me? Berate me? Or does your inner sadist just want to watch me burn because of how bitter you are from the past?” Your voice was an octave away from shouting but his stone-cold expression gave no leeway as to what his intentions were. “Fine. Fine. Just ignore me like you always do because hell if I know what I did wrong!”

The muscles of his jaw tensed again as he parted his lips to speak. “You must be so happy with what you have, princess...” His voice grew timid and hushed at these words but his message was as evident as ever.

“Stop calling me that.” Each word came out through pursed lips and clamped teeth. Leaning into you so that he was directly in your line of vision, his lip curled into a smirk and his eyes flaunted a veil of malicious intent.

“Make me,” he snarled. Never in your life had two words made you more furious than at that exact moment.

“Fuck you, Yoongi,” you spat out, face just centimeters away from his. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, I really am, okay? But you don’t know a single goddamn thing about me, so stop acting like you’re the only one who’s been hurt in the past.”

Moving closer to you in response, you felt his hot breath fan over your lips, making you lean back instinctively.

“I’m not hurt,” he pointed out with venom dripping from his voice. Leaning towards the shell of your ear, his exhaling breath tickled your neck.

“I’m broken, _____...” Yoongi growled your name like a wild animal; vehement, primal, starved and circling his prey. Licking his lips, he edged closer to you with each breath until your back was pressed into the wall. Shoving his chest harshly, his hands came up to slam against the wall behind you, caging you in; you were right where he wanted you.

“Move,” you demanded. Pushing him away again, you were stopped when he grabbed you by the wrist and brought you closer to him, your bodies now pressed dangerously close to each other.

Not having the time to curse at him, your thoughts were halted halfway when he wrapped his free arm around your waist and held you even tighter than before. You didn’t think there was any space left to move any closer to each other, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Glaring at him with nothing but hatred and blind rage, you noticed that his pupils were completely blown with lust. The once brown eyes were now obsidian black as you felt them stare through you like a crystal clear lens.

Whether it was a whirlwind of poor judgment, lack of rational decision-making skills, loss of sanity or a deadly concoction of all three, it didn’t matter because in the blink of an eye, Yoongi’s mouth collided against yours in a frenzied kiss.

Locking his lips onto yours, you couldn’t hold back the audible gasp that escaped. He gripped both of your wrists and pinned them back against the wall and used your moment of surprise to begin exploring your mouth with his tongue.

Caught in the heat of the moment and enraged with sexual tension, you found yourself doing the one thing you swore you’d never do in a million years—you were kissing him back. In a battle of colliding teeth and tangled tongues, your body suddenly rushed with lustful desire you had never felt before.

He gripped your wrists tighter when you tried pulling them down, seeing it as an attempt at asserting control; the thing both of you craved above everything else. He could tell that you were holding back and took it in his best interest to coax you by tugging on your lower lip with his teeth, knowing damn well that they were raw from your habit of biting on them.

Whimpering unconsciously, you felt him smirk against your lips. Another breathless gasp escaped when you hoisted you up by your thighs and carried you to the couch. Your hands were finally free from his grasp, allowing you to tangle your fists into his hair while you locked lips again and tug—hard.

Determined to put up a fight, he let out a gravelly groan against your lips, refusing to submit to your attacks. This time, it was you that grinned. When he pulled away from you for a second to take off his shirt, you found yourself gawking at his body. Yoongi wasn’t on the bodybuilder side of the muscular spectrum, but he was built; the perfect combination of his lean figure and perfectly proportioned muscles almost made you drool.

Swallowing your bubbling excitement, you reached down to the hem of your shirt to mirror his actions but he stopped you. Tearing them away from your shirt, he resumed kissed you hungrily, taking the time to pay attention to your now-red and throbbing lips.

You leaned back and went back to raking your hands through his hair as he started placing wet open-mouthed kisses on your neck, sucking bright burgundy bruises into your skin before trailing down to your throat. With his elbows bracing his body weight, Yoongi rubbed his growing arousal over your center, rolling his tongue across his lip when he felt your heat even through the thick fabric of his jeans.

Nibbling on the junction between your collarbone and pulse point, you inhaled sharply when his teeth grated cruelly against the delicate surface. If anything, the pain made you shiver with pleasure and the sudden sensation caused the heat between your legs to throb with anticipation.

Soon enough, his hands had made their way down to your jeans and were swiftly undoing the buttons and zipper. He grumbled in dissatisfaction when he had to pull away from your lips to try and find the metal clasp, making you giggle in amusement at his concentrated pouty face. The abruptly forceful tug that came from him pulling your pants down your thighs made you scoot down the couch, causing another breathy chuckle to emit from your chest.

With two more pulls, your jeans were tossed haphazardly across the room and strewn lazily on the chair along with Yoongi’s shirt. Reaching for you again, he laced his fingers through yours and brought his face close, breath fanning against your lips teasingly.

“I need you to beg, _____.” You couldn’t filter out how he said your name with an alluringly throaty voice. For what, to take your shirt off? With the same piercing gaze, you couldn’t do anything except breathe heavily. Moving back down to your legs, he repeated the same process of biting and sucking deep purple marks into your thighs, leaving a pattern of blossoming bruises to admire later.

His painstakingly slow but calculated steps made your body writhe in frustration. Your temperature was beginning to rise, making the loose sweater you were wearing stick to your body. It felt like you were sweating bullets. Looking down at Yoongi, you almost jumped when you saw that his eyes were already locked on yours with a shit-eating grin. Studying your tense face with his dark eyes, he continued leaving marks along your thighs and hipbones.

The cheeky fucker was teasing you.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you swore, pressing your hand against your forehead and shutting your eyes in annoyance. “You win, just fucking do something—anything, God.”

Not wasting another second, he ripped your underwear off and balled it in his fist before tossing it into the pile across the room. Before the cold air got a chance to hit your skin, he delved facefirst into your dripping core, lapping at your pussy as if it was his last meal. You try to contain your moans by cupping one hand over your mouth and using the other to grip the cushion for support, but he guides the one holding back your pleasurable sounds to his hair, clenching it tightly in a silent plea for you to grip harder.

Switching between delicate, broad licks across your entire slit and teasing strokes with the flat-edge of his tongue, you almost screamed when he sucked harshly on your clit, causing you to jolt.

“Fuck—my shirt, Yoongi,” you beg, desperate to pry the clinging fabric off of your sweaty body. It felt like you were being suffocated and you couldn’t tell whether you were lightheaded from the stuffiness of the room or Yoongi’s unforgiving tongue.

“Busy,” he replied, voice coming out muffled because he refused to pull away from your cunt. Hurrying to strip down, you were grateful you decided to forgo a bra earlier.

Your topless state forced Yoongi to direct his attention back up to your body. Licking his lips ardently, you felt yourself gush at the view; your wetness coated his lips and cheeks and glistened down his chin in a sight that was so wrong but felt so right. Diving back into your throbbing core, you felt your body hum with pleasure, the buzz of your orgasm nearing at just an arm’s length away.

Yoongi sensed this by the way you were grinding into his face to gain more friction. Locking his hands around your thighs, he lapped mercilessly at your swollen lips. All rational thoughts flew out the window when he finally slid two of his long fingers into your tight heat and accompanied the deep pumps with torturous sucks. Within moments, your body exploded into a euphoric release of moans and pants as you rolled yourself against his mouth.

When he pulled away on the verge of overstimulation, your hands were still tangled in his blonde tresses. Rather than continue pulling at his roots, however, your fingertips stroked the length of his hair softly, rewarding him for bringing you to your release. Wiping his face with his fingers, your eyes widened when he popped them into his mouth and sucked off what remained—all while keeping his eyes glued on you.

Moving back up to kiss you, you moaned into him when you tasted yourself all over his mouth. Swirling his tongue around yours, Yoongi was deliberate in making sure that you’d taste your release off of him, determined to let you know that he was the only one who would ever be able to make you feel this good.

“I need you, _____,” he murmured into your ear. “Please...” Yoongi spoke breathlessly, the lines of control and carnal need smudging together in a blur of lust and yearning as he tried to control himself.

Still breathing heavily under his caged hold, your heart was still hammering against your chest at a million miles a minute. “Pill,” you replied in a rushed tone, an urgency of longing and eagerness engulf you.

Fumbling with his jeans, Yoongi swore at the metal-ringed belt he decided to wear today. Your shoulders shook slightly as you tried to hold back a giggle. Who knew that the big bad wolf was also the biggest dork in the bedroom? He finally freed himself from his jeans, pulling them along with his boxers down his thighs and causing his muscles to flex with the slightest movement he made.

You found yourself licking your lips at his fully exposed state; the dim lights made his svelte body all the more defined, accentuating the V-line of his abdomen that led to his immaculate member. You weren’t one to go down on your partners for your own pleasure, but something about Yoongi made you want to consume him. Just as you were about to sit up, he read your mind like an open book.

Hovering over you, his lips connected with yours again and pressed you back into the sofa. “Next time,” he assured. “I need you now.” The utter desperation laced in his voice made you whimper against his mouth.

Reaching down stealthily, you gripped him gently and began pumping his hard length with slow, teasing strokes, grinning in satisfaction when he fluttered his eyes shut and moaned at the contact. Spreading the dripping bead of precum over his sensitive slit with your thumb, it took everything you had not to take advantage of his submissive state and blow him. God, you wanted him in your mouth so badly...

Cupping your face with his hands with haste, he kissed you sloppily before guiding his cock into your entrance. Rubbing over your slit with the newly formed bead of arousal that coated his tip, Yoongi’s sense of need grew dangerously desperate; he hadn’t even started and already he didn’t want it to end. Unable to cage your own temptation any longer, you grabbed him by his hips and urged him forward, making him enter you in one swift thrust.

The sudden linking of your two bodies made both of you groan in unison. He was bigger than you thought. The delicious sensation of feeling full and one with Yoongi was already a lot for you to handle—how would you feel once he actually started moving? Reading your expression, he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t read before kissing you again. You needed him to move so fucking bad. Voicing your thoughts physically, you lifted your hips up in the hopes that he would get the message.

After a moment of resistance, he couldn’t contain himself. Pulling out all the way, he bottomed out completely, repeating the action as he began moving against your body with even-timed thrusts. You threw your head back in pleasure at the senses that were being stimulated; the feel of him inside you, the smell of his shampoo and light cologne, the plushness of his lips, the rough texture of his hair, the sounds of your combined moans, and the undeniable feeling of finally being connected.

Every few seconds, he gave you a particularly harsh thrust, making you cup a hand over your mouth to mute your sobs of intense pleasure, but of course, Yoongi absolutely despised it. How dare you silence your melodic moans that he was hellbent on making you produce? Tearing your hand away from your mouth, he laced his fingers through yours and held your throat securely with his other hand, not applying any pressure just yet.

“I need to hear your moans, _____,” he panted heavily, an idle grin grazing over his face as he began pounding into you harder, only choosing to tighten his grip around your throat when your mouth parted in a gasp.

There was your name again. And that word: need. Not want, but need.

Gasping at his stark change of pace, your head lifted off of the cushion, making his hands tense around your throat. “Fuck, Yoongi,” you sputtered out, determined to hold back your moans for as long as you could.

Seeing this, Yoongi’s jaw clenched. Pulling his fingers off of your throat and away from your hands, he cupped your breasts with his large hands and kept his grip firm, refusing to do anything more than that. Two could play at that game.

“Please, _____,” he pleaded, pausing his thrusts and changing to grind painfully slow into you while pinching your nipples between his fingers. Biting down on his lip hard enough to break the skin, it was evident that it was pure torture for him and that your pride would be the death of both of you.

Lacing your fingers through his disheveled hair gently, you kissed him deeply, wordlessly telling him that you needed him just as badly—if not, more—than he needed you.

It didn’t take Yoongi more than a second to pick up his relentless thrusts again, pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. You could already tell you weren’t going to be able to walk anytime soon. As you grew tighter around him with each thrust, the two of you became a panting mess of animalistic moans.

Your hands were either clawing red stripes down his bare back or tugging at his hair, while his hands switched off between massaging your breasts and playing with your nipples to holding you by your hips to drill into you harder. When you tugged him down by his hair to your lips, you left a trail of blooming marks along his throat, mirroring the exact same ones he made sure to leave on you. Finalizing your masterpiece by licking a stripe up the side of his pulse point, he grunted into the crook of your neck, snapping his hips instinctually at the fervent sensation.

Clamping his teeth down on your neck, your core clenched around him immediately, digging crescents into his biceps with your nails to grip onto whatever sanity you had left. Releasing your breast and replacing it with his warm mouth, his hand moved down to rub quick circles on your clit, making you scream with pleasure. Thank God for soundproof walls.

“Yoongi—” you sputtered, no longer able to form coherent words.

Switching to the other breast, he sucked at the neglected nipple and swirled his tongue around the bud tantalizingly, begging you to cum.

“Cum for me, _____,” he ordered. And with a single word, you gasped sharply as you erupted into a surge of pure bliss. Sheer ecstasy overtook your senses like a high you couldn’t get enough of. The satisfying heat of your release spread from your lower abdomen to your panting chest, rising up to form the post-orgasm glow on your face that had Yoongi under your spell.

“_____,” he moaned deeply. His eyes were screwed shut in utter bliss as his thrusts became uneven and urgent, signaling his release. The fact that you were still clenching around him made him let out muffled whimpers into your neck and the vibrations of his throaty gasps made you hum in delight.

“Cum for me, Yoongi,” you edged, repeating the words that he spoke mere moments ago while holding him close. On the brink of overstimulation, he bared his mouth in a silent hiss and snapped his hips into you roughly before letting out a guttural groan, burying himself hilt deep. His cock throbbed against your cunt as he came deep inside of you, releasing strings of warmth that coated your walls completely. While still buried inside your heat, he rolled his hips against yours, wanting nothing more than to push his release deep into you so that you knew you were his.

Your insides clenched tightly when his cum dripped out. Pressing a final kiss to your raw lips, his member twitched a few more times before he pulled out slowly, making sure that as much of his seed remained inside of you as possible. Feeling it flow down your ass, you weren’t able to hold back the moan that came when you felt Yoongi collect it with his fingers and push it back inside of you. Your sensitive state caused you to arch your back and prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he started pumping his fingers.

“Yoongi—” you hummed, rolling your head back as he concentrated on cleaning up your dripping center. Scissoring your combined releases in between his two fingers, he pulled them out slowly, making a string of wetness trail from his fingertips to your cunt. Popping them into his mouth, your jaw dropped as he sucked off the mixture from his fingers deliciously, smirking at your reaction. Right when you were about to comment on his actions, he buried his fingers knuckle-deep back inside you and curled them sinfully, making your breath hitch in your throat.

This time when he pulled out, you grabbed his wrist and guided his sticky fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the unholy essence and humming at the oddly satisfying taste. Yoongi’s eyes remained fixed on you as his tongue darted out to lick off the remaining wetness from his lower lip, desperately wanting to taste whatever remained of your combined highs as possible.

His lips pressed firmly onto yours the moment after your tongue traced a circle around your lips, the earlier battle of clashing teeth and tongues now soft and nurturing; a complete change of mood from earlier.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he chuckled with lips still connected to yours. Smiling against his mouth, you stroked his cheek softly, scooting over as he made room for himself beside you. Reaching over the edge of the couch, Yoongi grabbed the large throw blanket and draped it over your bodies and snuggled into you like a pillow. He wrapped his arms around your body and nuzzled his nose into you while he began placing soft kisses along the valley of your breasts.

Cradling his head tenderly, you ran your fingers through Yoongi’s tousled hair and felt his breaths become calm and even, the soothing action lulling him into a deep slumber. Slowly but surely, you too felt your eyelids droop as the weight of sleep consumed you.

The morning after trope was always a fun story to tell. A gigantic yawn spilled from your mouth as you stretched out your arms like old tree limbs. When your fingertips brushed the cold surface of a wooden headboard, your eyes flew wide open and you sat up like a shot fired from a cannon. Blood rushed to your head immediately as rays of sunlight blinded you, making you scrunch your entire face and smack your hand against your temple.

Your mouth felt dry as a chalky taste coated your tongue, becoming more apparent now that you were fully awake. What time was it? What happened last night? When did you buy black pajamas? Why was it so goddamn sunny?

Groaning, you cocked your head side to side to stretch your cramped neck, probably from sleeping in a position that had you ready to be shipped to Costa Rica. Feeling around the small twin-sized bed, a large puffy white linen blanket covered your body and you looked around to see that you were in one of the dorm rooms.

Minimally decorated and tidy, the only thing that seemed to distinguish the room from an IKEA display was the disarray of papers scattered across the desk and the uncovered digital piano that was set up next to it.

A rustling beside you made you jolt in surprise and clutch the blanket over your body tightly. With eyes the opened to the size of flying saucers, you stretched your neck over the bundled lump of the blanket and could only make out the fuzzy cap of blonde hair. As if your timing couldn’t get any better, a hand suddenly reached from under the crumpled fabric and grabbed you by the wrist, dragging you back down into the warm sheets. Landing on the mattress with a soft thump, your eyes came face-to-face with none other than the sleeping giant himself.

You got into an argument yesterday.

With Min Yoongi.

You had sex last night. In the practice room.

With Min Yoongi.

And you were now wide awake and sharing a bed.

With Min Yoongi.

As if life couldn’t get any better, the slight rustle of sheets beside you slapped you back into reality.

This time, you had nowhere to escape.

you know where to find part 2 ;)

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alltheangstmygifttoyou · 4 years

Text

A Real Hero

A/N: Augh I love this part so much. Welcome to part nine of the Learn To Be Prequel and today we are from Jester’s perspective looking at the start of a very important event in her life. Some day I’m going to write this part from June’s perspective so everyone else in the world can have the same context I do but for now everyone is left in the dark and I’m left to cry about a minor character in my own story.

Summery: Jester is given a letter from Father that leaves her upset so she goes to her room to calm down. But while she’s in her room she notices some drama going down with June in the open dormitory. Shit hits the fan.

Word Count: 2647

TW: violence, mentioned child abuse, death

The dinner hall was alight with hundreds of voices excitedly telling each other about their days. On the left side of the hall Jesse sat with a group of friends, on the right Jester sat alone. She could join her twin brother’s table, but it was clear that Jesse didn’t like her there. The only one who did like her at that table was Jackson. To compromise, Jester only sat at that table during breakfast, no one told her to avoid the table afterwards, but they didn’t need to. Jester didn’t want to upset Jesse, but she was tired of being alone. The fact that Jesse didn’t want her around wasn’t surprising but it still left her aching.

A balding staff member covered in sagging wrinkles tossed a white envelope in front of Jester. Despite the closeness between the tables and bodies the staff member took special care to not touch Jester. Rolling her eyes Jester took the envelope and saw her family seal. The green wax formed in the shape of a shield with four different sections, each with symbols Jester had seen a thousand times before. A fist in the top right for strength, a heart in the top left for love, a thorned rose in the bottom right for defense, and a bloody dagger in the bottom left for a sharp mind. Jester took what satisfaction she could out of breaking the seal but it was gone when she pulled the letter out. As always the envelope carried two letters, one for Jester and one for Jesse. If Jester liked what Mother had to tell Jesse she’d give him his letter tomorrow morning, if not, he didn’t need to see. Jester had already kept two letters this year. Mother could be very harsh in her letters about his grades and choices in friends. Jesse didn’t need that. The most important letter was Father’s anyway, and Jesse never saw those.

Father’s instructions were clear, list out the rest of section fifteen powers from years four and below. The younger the easier to manipulate. Although the last line in the letter made Jester struggle to not crumple the letter into a little ball. ‘Get closer to Jackson, he’ll need emotional support soon, and it needs to be clear the Quinn family will be there for him.’ Jester didn’t know what Father was planning, but he had to be planning something. He was going to hurt Jackson’s mom’s business was Jester’s best guess. She knew he would make her take advantage of the one friend she had. Jester could warn him, but her ribs ached, an echo of Father’s last lesson. Frustration welled up and Jester slammed her fist on the table before grabbing her bag and storming off to her room. The long walk managed to only irritate her further as the halls were filled with people hanging out together, smiling, laughing, things Jester had to spend her day faking or holding in.

The section fifteen girls dormitory main room was empty. It’s dirty dull beige walls less comforting than the pristine white of home. Nowhere should have felt worse than home but this place managed it. The urge to break the two broken chairs completely was causing her fists to shake but she went to her room. June wasn’t in there for once which Jester couldn’t be more thankful for. She tossed the letters into her duffel bag and kicked her mattress as hard as she could. It jumped a little but it didn’t go far. The only result was Jester’s foot hurt. Taking a deep breath Jester tried to think of a productive way to unleash the energy. She had posters she wanted to put up, some nails, and a hammer in the bag she had remembered when packing up. Learn To Be didn’t search bags for weapons and section fifteen didn’t seem to get room checks often. In a dormitory full of dangerous powerful people having a weapon couldn’t hurt her odds of survival. Plus she couldn’t find the tape at home.

With more force than necessary Jester put up five posters, each with four nails. She would have continued but she hadn’t brought anything else to put up. Her photo wall at home was too private to have in a room she shared. The only reason she had the posters in the first place was because they were sponsored by Father’s company. She didn’t put them up in her room at home because they were just random motivational quotes splashed in color, but they were better than plain and stained walls. Jester was sweating but she felt like her chest wasn’t as heavy. She put the hammer and extra nails away and grabbed her make-up wipes and took all of the work she had put on her face off. Tomorrow she would wear something extra nice, have her face done with as much precision as she could, and she would be the manipulative devil her Father wanted, but tonight she wanted to be Jester, whoever she was. A twin with her first friend that she didn’t want to lose.

Jester laid on her dirty mattress trying to figure out a way to show Jackson that she did truly appreciate him. Not because Father liked him but because he was nice to her. He reached out when no one else did. She thought back to Basics and what they would do for each other during the holidays. A handmade card would be nice. All she had to work with was notebook paper, a pencil, and a pen with black ink, which shook her determination a bit but she tried to keep in mind it was the thought that counted. Jackson wouldn’t be judging it for imperfections like Mother and Father.

Jester folded the notebook paper hamburger style and began sketching fancy lettering for the front ‘Thank you’. With the little room left at the bottom Jester tried to draw a bust of a cartoon Jackson. It was lopsided no matter how many times she erased and tried again so she put a heart at the bottom. But that could be confused as romantic and Jester was sure Father wouldn’t like it if she entered a relationship without permission. On the other hand she had told herself she wouldn’t worry about Father tonight. In the end she erased the heart and put an arch of stars differing in size. On the inside of the card she wrote a smaller message ‘for being my friend’ in her regular script. On the right page of the inside she drew two hands holding on to each other, something Jackson and her had never done but she was pretty sure that friends did. Jesse used to hold her hand, but they were twins so their relationship wasn’t a good baseline.

As Jester went through the steps of making the card look nice, lining with the pen, adding contrast through cross hatching, and signing her name on the back, two things occurred to her. One, the broken light in her room had been on longer than ever before, and two, June still hadn’t come in. Perhaps it wasn’t any of her business, June certainly didn’t care about her, but Jester was still worried. She carefully tucked Jackson’s card into her notebook and ventured out of her little room.

The dormitory was brighter than usual, the cracks underneath all the closed doors revealed their lights were working, at least temporarily. Walking into the main form entrance Jester realized that leaving her room was a mistake. There were at least fifteen people in the big room, not close to full, but many more than usual. Three girls blocked the exit and two stood at the edges to the hall. Jester walked toward them. In the middle of the room June faced off against a group of older girls wearing nice clean clothes. Jester recognized a couple from people in upper sections she had talked business and powers with once for Father’s list. There were two guys in the center as well. Something was about to go down. Jester wanted no part in it, but her thoughts needled her about leaving June. This looked like it wouldn’t end pretty for the red head.

“What do you want?” One of the girls by the entrance snapped. She had short curly brown hair and at least five inches on Jester.

“What’s going on? All the lights are on…” Jester was happy to not have makeup on for once. She looked her age a bit more without it. The taller girl’s frown deepened and her hip jutted out further.

“That’s nothing for you to worry about kid, just go back to your room.” The tall girl spat with the haughtiness of a spoiled princess. Jester looked past the tall girl as she spoke to see electricity crackling around a blonde moving towards June. June didn’t back up, she just glared forward. Given June’s power to kill, Jester doubted June had much to fear.

“Go kid,” the tall girl snapped and Jester turned around to head back. Part of her wanted to summon that girl's greatest fear, but that would just cause problems. As Father had told her, patience brings rewards.

Her freshly decorated room was still too boring to bring any comfort. Instead, the posters just reminded her of Father. She was tempted to sit with her ear to the door, but she couldn’t hear anything when the tall girl was in front of her so she definitely would hear anything now with a closed door and thirty feet of hall between them. All that was left to do was wait-- something Jester had practice at. She worked on homework for math but it didn’t take long. The numbers added up tight.

After a quarter of an hour just sitting in thought Jester’s light bulb seemed to shine brighter, but a high pitch whine stung her ears, Covering her ears with her hands and squeezing her eyes shut, she missed seeing the light bulb burst. Glass flew around the room, one piece lightly grazing her right arm. Despite her eyes being shut, she could sense the room darken. While the whine was gone, a muffled yelling could be heard. Slowly Jester opened her eyes and blinked a few times to let her eyes get adjusted. There was no light under the door crack anymore, meaning the other lights had either gone out or shattered too. Despite this as her eyes adjusted Jester could see blobs of motion. Doors were slamming into walls and female voices overlapped all trying to figure out what happened. It would be stupid to go out in that mess, a bunch of dangerous kids stuck in the dark, but Jester wanted to know what was happening first hand. She swept the glass out of her way with the slow movement of her feet before she pulled open her door.

The hallway was full of girls, young and older teens alike trying to push their way to the opening room of the dormitory, their pathetic excuse of a living room, and the only place to exit in the whole dorm. It was easy to follow the flow but once they were closer to the living room itself no one was moving. People were yelling, telling the ones at the front to go but they weren’t moving. Some people started pushing their way through and Jester joined them, although many of those who had been pushing stopped when they got to the front too, Jester just pushed them out of the way as well. Once in the main dorm room she moved out and to the side, out of the way of them all. Everything was difficult to make out but there were definitely people huddled on the floor and two figures yelling at another shorter figure. Unable to understand over the cacophony of noise, Jester edged her way around the room, staying close to the wall, until she was facing the back of the figure on the receiving end of the yelling. Now that she was closer it seemed like the one being yelled at was June, and the guys from earlier were yelling.

“You fucking killed her you psycho bitch!” A deep voice shouted and Jester couldn’t help but look back at the huddle of people. It’s possible they were surrounding a body. The thought made her stomach drop. Jester looked toward the exit to see people running towards it. Opening the doors allowed light from the schools hallways to seep in. June stood in front of Jester holding her left shoulder, the huddle of bodies were mainly the girls from the upper sections. A few of them moved towards the light showing that a body did indeed lay on the floor. From the hallway people in the front began to scream shrill sounds that echoed throughout the room. Many of them pushed their way backwards through the crowd only for the next line of people to see and panic as well.

Jester was acutely aware of the power of fear, after all it is what her power caused, and what fueled her Father’s power. While rage was a good way to get people to lash out with their power, fear had the tendency to make people lose control. The students that had broken in seemed to realize that causing a panic in the dormitory for people with dangerous powers was a terrible idea and began to back away from the screaming mass.

The first sign of trouble came when the darkness itself seemed to begin to move on its own, pushing people back. People were slammed against the walls by the living shadow. Then as the shadows attacked people became defensive, someone began spitting at the shadows, and where the globs landed the floor caught fire. The older students began running out of the dorm, trained to keep their powers in control in a stressful situation, while the younger students had barely begun to learn. The boys in front of June made a break for it, one running incredibly fast leaving the other behind. June watched on, her shoulders slumped. The exit was propped open at this point from the constant stream of people escaping so it was easy to see inside, the fires popping up helped the light situation as well. There were people lying on the floor next to the walls, Jester hoped they were just unconscious. Most of the screams left were guttural and seemed to be from pain more than panic. Shadows waved randomly from the hall, whoever summoning them obviously not in any sort of control. June turned to leave only to spot Jester.

“You said you’d stop following me,” her words were grumbled but lacked conviction.

“This seemed the safest place to stand,” Jester responded shrugging. The fact that this was happening felt absurd. “Are you okay?” That question felt more appropriate to the situation.

“You should see the other guy,” June rubbed her shoulder as she spoke. Jester looked at where there had been the group of people only to see a lone body with blonde hair laying on the floor. Blood seeped out of the nose and mouth, and the eyes appeared to be open. “You should get out kid. This isn’t going to go well.” June always looked tired, but Jester remembered the conviction the redhead had always had. It was gone now.

“Am I going to see you again?” Jester asked, they weren’t friends, but they could have been. Jester could see herself becoming June in the future, if she played her cards wrong.

“You’re going to be the only one in the room, enjoy.” June’s bitter tone made Jester’s lips pucker. “Seriously, go away Jester,” and Jester listened, only because she hadn’t known June cared enough to learn her name.

#learn to be #TW child abuse #tw death #tw violence #writeblr

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lydisms · 4 years

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stydia | discord

summary: one of Lydia’s old wounds reopens so stiles takes her to the hospital to get stitches again. the wound mysteriously closes once they arrive at the hospital, prompting Lydia’s father and Charles to send her to eichen house for evaluation.

tagging: @call-me-stiles

trigger warnings: blood mention

Lydia was happy that both her and Stiles were free the entire day. He didn’t have work and she was finally done with classes, her internship, and her tutoring jobs. They were able to just spend the day together and relax which is exactly what Lydia wanted. More than anything, she just wanted to be with Stiles without any distractions. She was laying on their bed with her laptop open, refreshing a page where her final grades would be posted shortly. They were all in but one and Lydia was becoming impatient. She was focused on solely that for about ten minutes before the score was finally posted. “Yes!” Lydia exclaimed. “Thank God. I have officially gotten a perfect score on every one of my finals.” It had been a goal of hers and Lydia was relieved to know she’d accomplished that in her first year at college. Now she only had one more before graduating, due to the fact that she started as a junior. “Now that I can stop stressing about that,” Lydia began as she got off the bed and moved to where Stiles was to give him a light kiss on the lips. “What do you want to do today?”

It was summer time and Stiles knew that his workload was going to decrease. He was not taking summer classes so it would just be work. Though, at times, work was incredibly tedious compared to his online classes. The good news was that today he was getting to spend time with Lydia. They didn't have to be on anyone's time or worry about anything because he wasn't working and she was done with classes as well. Stiles was playing some really random game on his phone while letting his body dry off (in a towel) after his shower. When she exclaimed, he turned his screen off and walked into their bedroom from the joining bathroom. "Good job, babe. Mine won't even be posted until next week. Glad you aren't stressing anymore." He happily smiled into the kiss before heading towards their dresser. "I am open to anything," he told her, pulling out a pair of jeans and boxers. He put them on and then put the towel in the hamper. "What shirt do you want me to wear today?"

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” Lydia encouraged. She had personally been worried that maybe she spent too much time tutoring others that she would slip up herself. It was a relief to know that wasn’t the case, especially because that meant she would have less classes to take in her final year in September. The back and forth and very long hours had been exhausting for Lydia, despite her never admitting that out loud. “Hmm,” Lydia said softly before closing her laptop and focusing her complete attention on Stiles. It was rare they had a full day to spend together. “None sounds like a good option.” The strawberry blonde teased just before picking out her favorite shirt of Stiles’ and tossing it in his direction. “It’s nice out so we should be outside. Want to pick up some lunch and then eat by the boardwalk?” The banshee suggested. There was one about 40 minutes away, so it wasn’t too far of a drive. She felt genuinely happy today as she kissed Stiles again, a bright smile on her face. Only the smile turned slightly when she felt a sharp pain in her stomach, but Lydia didn’t think too much of it at first.

Stiles merely shrugged. He wasn't too worried. He had done a whole heck of a lot to make sure he had gotten As in his classes because he wanted to get a 4.0 GPA. It would look impressive in his resumes, after all, but he already had a seat at the academy so even if he made a B in a class, it wasn't the end of the world. Stiles was smart but he wasn't on the same level as Lydia. It had never bothered him, though. Lydia had academic goals that she had set in stone and he knew it would really hurt her to not achieve them so he hoped that she did. Stiles pouted when she tossed him a shirt. "You tease me with the option of none and then give me a shirt." He pretended to shake his head and then grinned at her. "Fine. I will put this on and we will go get lunch and go to the boardwalk if I get the option of none later. None everything." He waggled his eyebrows at her before pulling the shirt over his head. He kissed her back but concern clouded his face when he saw the expression she made. "You okay?"

“Patience.” Lydia jokingly scolded as she rolled her eyes. “But yes, I think that seems like a fair compromise.” She was tempted to just stay inside all day with Stiles but she knew getting some fresh air would be good for them both. They’d have fun and then they had all night later to just be together. Having the entire day free had a lot of perks, and Lydia was really looking forward to it. If only the pain in her stomach would go away.. “Y-yeah.” Lydia mumbled as she tried to ignore it. She refused to have any problems today that would ruin what they had planned. It was getting worse though and eventually Lydia let out an audible groan. It had gone from a dull ache to feeling like she had been stabbed in the stomach. “Shit.” Lydia groaned again as she looked down and realized there was some blood seeping through her shirt now. Lydia’s eyes widened as she lifted it up and noticed that the scars she had were reopening. “What the hell..” Lydia had a high pain tolerance so it wasn’t the end of the world but this was weird, and also pretty bad. Something that would need to be taken care of if she didn’t get the bleeding to stop.

He was happy that they would get to spend some time together. It wasn't like they didn't see each other before bed or whenever he wasn't working late. Thankfully he had some time off coming up he could take and his dad promised him that he wouldn't have as many late nights coming up so that was definitely a good idea. "Fine. I guess I can be patient. You're just trying to test me, huh?" he asked, a grin clearly on his lips. But her pain caught him off guard and soon the playfulness disappeared. He didn't really believe that she was okay and he was extremely worried. Stiles instantly moved to her and put his arm around her, trying to figure out where it hurt. Then he saw the blood. His throat dropped to his stomach and nervousness mixed with stress erupted in his body. "Okay....um...we need to...hang on..." Stiles sat her on the bed before grabbing the towel that he had put in the hamper a few moments before. He put it on her stomach and looked up at her. "We're going to the hospital. I will not leave your side. I'll call my dad to meet us there, okay?"

Lydia could easily sense how stressed and worried Stiles was becoming. She was freaking out inside too but wanted to ease his mind. “Hey, it’s fine.” Lydia said calmly. The strawberry blonde really was good with pain so that didn’t bother her as much as trying to figure out what was happening did. Then she remembered that time she was fighting this big bad with Kira, and her wound started to hurt. Lydia made a mental note to try and look into that but the pain was increasing and Stiles was right- they needed to get to the hospital. “Alright, yeah. I probably need new stitches. I think it has to do with this new supernatural, but.. we have time to discuss that.” In Lydia’s mind, she’d be getting stitches and then they’d go back home and have the rest of the day together. She let out a deep breath as she took over and used the towel to put pressure on her wound so that Stiles could call his dad. Lydia was moving quickly but also trying to keep calm under pressure as they got to the car, and thankfully the drive to the hospital didn’t take long either. But the more blood Lydia was losing, the more tired she was becoming. She leaned on Stiles for support and of course the nurses would see Lydia right away- except Charles came out as well. “I’ll do the stitches.” He said and Lydia’s stomach dropped to her chest. She looked at Stiles in a slight panic. They didn’t really have time to debate but this was the last thing Lydia wanted.

It wasn't fine. But Stiles knew that Lydia had been through a lot. He remembered, back before they were dating, when something similar happened. Blood was leaking from her stomach and he could only stare. He hadn't wanted to leave her then but she had given him the okay. It was one of the worst things he had done and it was one of the moments he realized he was still so completely in love with her - and there was no way he was getting past it. "Okay. Yeah, we can talk about it after the stitches. Figure out what the heck we can do and I'll add it to my board." He loved having a good mystery board. As soon as his dad confirmed he would meet them at the hospital, Stiles got her in the jeep and headed that way. It didn't take long and he was quick to get her to the nurse. When Stiles saw Lydia's dad he got really upset. "Then I"m staying with her," he told Stiles dad. His own dad - in full uniform - came right behind Stiles. "It's her legal right to have him there with her," Stiles dad said. Stiles had filled him - to a certain point - about her dad and the sheriff was definitely on Lydia's side.

Lydia was nervous at first about Charles doing the stitches and her father being present as well. She didn’t understand why another Doctor couldn’t do it and also why her dad needed to be around. Ultimately though she knew this needed to get done quickly- the easier she cooperated the faster she could get home with Stiles. Plus, having him with her and now his dad as well was comforting. “Let’s just get this over with.” Lydia rolled her eyes, keeping her hand intertwined with Stiles as she was taken to a room to get her stitches done. Only when her shirt was lifted up Lydia soon realized that there was no more bleeding, and the wound was closed completely. “Is this a joke?” Charles spat and Lydia swallowed the lump in her throat. She knew this had to do with the new supernatural but that couldn’t be explained. Lydia wasn’t sure how they’d get out of this. “I don’t..” Lydia opened her mouth to speak but then closed it as she got up. She wasn’t surprised Charles was doing all the talking and her dad was completely silent. Charles always controlled Lydia’s father. “We should get going. Sorry..” The banshee mumbled but then she felt Charles’ arm forcefully wrap around her wrist and stop her from moving. “You’re not going anywhere. This was a waste of time and resources and for what? Was it about some sort of revenge on your father and me?” Lydia could barely move. She just wanted to get out of there but he wasn’t done. “I always knew you were unstable but this is another level. I think you’re a danger to not just society but also yourself, and I’m ordering you to Eichen house for further evaluation.” Lydia felt like she was about to throw up upon hearing the words. It was the worst possible thing she could think of, and she just looked at Stiles with complete terror on her face. She didn’t want to make a scene- it was probably what they wanted- but inside Lydia couldn’t breathe.

Stiles held her hand tightly and only let go when she sat down to get the stitches. But the wound was gone. He didn't know what was going on but before he could even say anything, Charles was yelling at them. "Yeah...we will go find Melissa..." Stiles started saying but Charlies cut them off before he could go on and had his hand wrapped around Lydia's wrist. That really pissed him off. Stiles dad was soon in the room due to Charles' yelling. "No," Stiles said, shaking his head. "No. She's an adult who is definitely not a danger. She didn't try to hurt anyone...this can't be legal. As an officer of the law...I am telling you that..." He wasn't even sure what he was saying because his emotions were getting the better of him. "Release her into my custody....or my dad's...if you think anything...Dad will do a watch and it will be fine." He was grasping for straws because he did not want her going back to Eichen. "It would be smart of you to take your hand off of her, Doctor," his dad's voice rang out. "Unless you want me to take you in for assault." At this point, Stiles was happy for his dad to take Charles in for anything. "I think you're getting ahead of yourself. I will get Nurse McCall up here and she can take Lydia under her care. No need for all of this." Stiles could tell his dad was holding back from getting angry and Stiles was trying to do the same but it wasn't working as well.

Lydia breathed out a sigh of relief when Charles let go of her arm. It was a tight grip and painful- she wondered if there would be bruising but honestly they had bigger problems. Lydia was just relieved that Stiles’ dad stepped in quickly. “Unfortunately for you, Melissa isn’t here today. She’s also a nurse and can’t exactly do anything. Lydia is going to Eichen house.” Lydia wanted to remain calm despite how afraid she was inside. She was starting to come to terms with the fact that despite trying to fight this, nothing was going to stop Charles. “We can’t release her into the care of anyone when her actual father is right here. He thinks this is best for her as well.” Lydia looked at her dad with pleading eyes for him to just speak up. To do something for her benefit for once in his life but he simply nodded his head. “Y-yes, she’s going to Eichen. The psychiatrist will sign off on the transfer.” He didn’t even look at Lydia when he spoke and it broke her heart. Stiles’ father was fighting harder than Lydia’s own dad was. “You can’t..” Lydia didn’t know what else to say. “We can. And Sheriff, if your son has been enabling this crazy behavior from his girlfriend for this long then maybe you should consider sending him there too.” Lydia was furious at the words but she knew anything she did would be used against her to make her seem like more of a danger to society. “We’re going to get the paperwork done. We’ll have a nurse make sure you don’t go anywhere.” When Charles and Lydia’s dad left the room she finally allowed herself to show signs of panic. Lydia looked at Stiles and his dad as well. “They can’t..” She could hardly form a full sentence. “They can’t do this, right?” But Lydia knew they could and they would.

Stiles was in full panic mode and it was taking everything - everything - to not have a panic attack. He knew that his dad wanted to go find all the laws to make sure this was even legal abut they brought up her father being there and as soon as he said something about Sitles, all bets were off. "You listen here...I will make sure you don't get to practice medicine here anymore. Both of you. Do not talk about my son. Or my future daughter-in-law like that again. I will find a way to get her out. You can bet your asses I will. And I will take your medical licenses while I do it." They were both gone and his dad put his hand on Stiles shoulder. Stiles swallowed hard and tried to keep it under control. "Look. Lydia. I'm going to go back to that station and do everything in my power to have this reversed. I will bring in another psych...one that I can trust. I'll get Melissa on it, too. I promise you...we will get you out of there." His dad leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "I have to go out and talk to some nurses. Get some information." His dad left a moment later. "Lydia..." Stiles started, but couldn't really say anything. "I will get you out. I promise. I will figure out a way. I will...I will break in. I know the place. I can get a badge and get in..you know I can." He had broke her out of there before and he would do it again. "I love you...." he told her, leaning to kiss her lips quickly. "I don't know what to do....I...I am failing you right now. I am so, so sorry," he told her, his hands on both sides of her face. "I failed you...."

“I know you will. T-thank you.” Lydia replied back to the Sheriff. It was halfhearted and despite her wanting to flash him an appreciative smile, she just couldn’t do it. Lydia really was grateful for him trying to fight for her but honestly she was just too scared in that moment to even process anything else. Now it was just her and Stiles and Lydia really wanted to be strong. She knew Stiles well enough to guess he was trying very hard not to have a panic attack. Lydia didn’t want to make that worse by showing her terror. But the second Stiles started apologizing, Lydia couldn’t stop the tear from rolling down her cheek. “I love you so much.” Lydia said softly as she kissed him back. She brought her hand up to rest on top of his. “Hey, you didn’t fail me at all. You’ve never failed me. There’s just.. nothing we can do about this right now but I know you will. You and your dad will figure something out eventually. And I’ll fight too. You know I’ll fight to get out of there.” Lydia again tried to smile so she could comfort Stiles but it was falling flat. She was grateful they were taking awhile with the paperwork because it was giving her more time with Stiles. Lydia would never admit this, but she was terrified they were going to kill her in there. Lydia wasn’t exactly their favorite person in the world. She feared this might be the last time she saw Stiles. “It’ll be alright.” Lydia tried so hard to believe her words.

He shouldn't be the one being comforted. It should be him comforting her but somehow this was just what they did. They were there for each other in the worst of times. "You're so good and so brave and I am going to find a way. Don't give up. Okay? Just...if things get bad...think about your future...our future. I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make sure this doesn't happen to you again, okay? I'll marry you so no one can act like they know more just because they are related to you. Because I'll be the one who gets a say and I'll make sure it's what you want. As stupid as that is...that we would even have to do that. I want to marry you anyway so..." He would do whatever it took to get her out and make sure her father couldn't do this to her ever again. "I'll find out what I can to get him arrested. I'm not letting Charles hurt you again. I won't sleep until you are out." That last one was the biggest promise he could make and they both knew that it was true. There was no way Stiles was going to sleep. He was going to be working nonstop. "I won't sleep until you are with me again."

Lydia had been doing her very best to put on a brave face but when Stiles started talking about their future together she started to cry. She was absolutely terrified that she wasn’t going to be able to make it out of Eichen alive. Lydia had faith Stiles would work tirelessly to find a way to get her out but honestly she thought they might kill her as soon as she got there. Plus, the fact that her own father had a hand in this happening honestly just broke her heart. “I want to marry you one day.. there’s nothing I want more..” Lydia’s words were hardly making sense. This was all so hard to process. “I don’t want to leave you.” Her voice cracked at the words. It was the very last thing she’d ever want. If Lydia did make it out- would she be the same? What were they going to do to her in there this time? “But please, Stiles.. take care of yourself. Try to sleep when you can and don’t forget to eat or try to survive on coffee alone.” Reminding Stiles to take care of himself- even though she knew he would forget- was just easier for Lydia than focusing on what was actually happening.

Hearing her say it made him feel good but it was so scary at the same time. She was leaving him again...not on her own will, of course...but once again someone he loved was leaving him and it was like every single fear was coming true. "We will get married as soon as you say the word and I'll be your family legally and it will be the best ever." He needed her to have something to hold on to. He took a deep breath, his heart beating so fast and he could barely breathe so he was making himself do it but it was impossibly hard. "I'll try," he told her, not able to lie to her and tell her that he would. Because they both knew how he was and he wasn't going to be sleeping. He would probably have to go back to his father's house because it would be impossible to face their apartment when he didn't know when she would be back in it again.

Lydia was not stupid. She knew that Stiles was going to drive himself crazy trying to figure out a way to get Lydia away from Eichen house. She still had to remind him, though- it was just what Lydia did. She could hear Charles and her dad in the hallway which meant the paperwork was done. They were talking to someone- who Lydia assumed was here to take her to Eichen- and it was becoming very real now. She was trying to catch her breath as she grabbed Stiles’ hands. “You are my family already. No matter what.” Lydia didn’t want to talk as though she wasn’t coming back but it was a possibility and she needed Stiles to know how much she loved him, just in case. “Stiles..” Lydia opened her mouth to speak but there were no words anymore. She just wrapped her arms around him and hugged him as tightly as humanly possible.

He could hear them and part of him wanted to make a scene, cause some chaos, do something...and he wondered if that was a lingering effect of the Nogitsune, as if the possession left something behind. But it was also very easily just him. He fought for what he wanted but right now he was going to have to do it a different way. He was an officer of the law - and soon he would be part of the FBI. He couldn't wait to hold that power because he would be able to pull strings to get her out of there quite easily. Right now? Right now he didn't have that so he was going to have to do it the completely legal way. Or break in. Either way, she was going to get out. Stiles didn't know what he would do...he would lose his mind, quite honestly, if she didn't make it out. He hugged her back and ran a hand through her hair. "I know," he told her, keeping his breathing as calm as possible given the circumstance.

Lydia allowed a few tears to fall when she was hugging Stiles. She was able to bury her face in his shoulder so no one else could tell that she was crying. The strawberry blonde held him as tight as she possibly could, wishing the moment could just last forever. “I’m sorry.” Lydia said in a whisper. She didn’t want to leave him, but once the door to the hospital room opened Lydia knew it was time. Her stomach dropped as the orderly walked in and broke up their hug. Lydia made sure not to let a single tear shed after that. There was no way in hell she’d show any sign of weakness, not with Charles and her father watching her- as if they got sick enjoyment out of this. “I love you. It’ll be okay, I’ll see you soon.” Lydia said to Stiles, flashing him a smile similar to the one she gave him that night she was bleeding on the ground. No matter the situation Lydia would always try to ease Stiles’ mind and tell him it was okay. This was so much to process and she had a lot of questions- most importantly why they would do this to her. But Lydia couldn’t focus on that anymore. As they grabbed her and pulled her away from Stiles, her only focus now had to be getting out.

"I love you, too," he called out but he couldn't do anything else. They were taking her away and he was left standing alone in the room, his breathing erratic. He was in the middle of a full blown panic attack. A nurse walked in but he couldn't see her, not really. His dad came in telling them what was going on but all he could think about was Lydia and how they took Lydia away and how he had to get her back and he couldn't let this happen and how he had failed. He was sweating and freezing at the same time and he needed to sit down but just couldn't. They had taken her.

#the gif doesn't really work but its the best one I could find?#call-me-stiles #stiles #discord #chatzy #blood tw

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jack-andthestalk · 5 years

Text

Our Son, Arc II, To Lose you, Chapter 11

I usually thank @balfeheughlywed at this point because she is my reading gal and puts me straight when I am gone off course. But this week I almost broke her! So I really want to thank her for all her tiredless, 'but why? and straight out this isn't right talk she gave me. She always hits the nail on the head and made me do a bit of soul searching (dramatic much?) The epic @notevenjokingfic took my jibberish plot planning and really cleaned it up and set me straight again, I am actually giddy with the what we decided on and for the first time in ages can't wait to write! I also want to thank @ladyviolethummingbird and @laythornmuse who support this little fic so much and regularly squeal or shout at me in DM about their writing or often just random bants which really helps when I can't write a sentence. A little NSFW below the cut.

Crawling up the length of my body, she nipped and sucked each expanse of skin, ignoring the part that needed her mouth most, teasing.

Dark curls were falling around her shoulders, almost reaching her naked breasts. Cheeks rosy red from desire and the heat of our bodies.

My hand sought a nipple, but she moved quickly to evade my grasp. Her head fell back in a naughty giggle. I attempted to reach for her hips, encouraging her nearer.

“uh uh,” she waggled a delicate finger at me. “Patience Jamie”

“Sassenach” – I surprised myself with the begging groan that came from my mouth – “I canna wait I need to be inside ye.” My hands were flailing around me as I attempted to pull her mouth to mine.

“all in good time” she whispered against my lips, not quite touching as her hand crept down and cupped my balls.

I was rocking brazenly beneath her, willing her hips to lock with mine as they should be, two magnets moulded to fit each other.

“you’ve been a bold boy Mr Fraser, and I intend on punishing you for it”, she squeezed

lightly making my cock twitch on demand.

“Aye,” I replied, bobbing my head eagerly “I have”, her tongue slid down the length of me, drawing a hiss from my mouth as my hand cupped the back of her head. “Claire” I pleaded again, earning me a stern look as she bent to my groin. She gently ran her teeth along my shaft, hips bucking off the bed now, decency be damned I was aching for her.

“That’s it” she crooned. “Do as I say.”

Her hand ghosted over my stomach and chest, clutching for mine, once she grasped it she pulled it down to her mouth using the flat of her tongue to glide over my palm. “Touch yourself for me, Jamie”. My balls felt they were near to bubbling and my head fell back against the pillow. “I canna Claire – I.”

Her voice sure and smooth rose up against my ear, “you can Jamie, it’s just us.” she guided my hand down to my cock, “show me how you like it?”

Her hair swept around her face, she bit deeply into her bottom lip, eyes locked on mine, “then you can do whatever you want to me” she offered.

“Oh fuck” I reached down taking myself in hand, shutting my eyes tight. “that’s it” she praised, taking my free hand and placing two fingers into her mouth, she sucked deeply. The sensation of her fingers in her mouth made my stomach coil, I frantically pumped myself while using my free hand to rub and tease her breasts. She purred encouraging words in my ear and ran her tongue over me.

Claire ran her hand in under my ass, cupping a cheek and urging me to lift, my hips raised and met my hand at her inclination, she set the rhythm.

I pleaded to her in Gaelic, praised her, thanked her, told her I loved her. She was the only woman that made me lose English, the irony was not lost on me.

Her mouth continued to suck my fingers in and out, her hips moving in tandem with mine. I knew I was going to come and soon, vaguely thought ye need to stop man or ye willna be no use to her. But I couldn’t, I tried to turn on my side, my body coiling in on itself to reach an end. Claire’s palm firm on my chest pushing me into the bed. “shhh” she whispered

“fuck, ye are amazing, do ye ken that?”

Then her tone changed, “your alarm is going off Jamie”. I lifted my head from the pillow to clutch her to me, but she was gone.

6.00am flashing on the clock beside my bed. Fuck.

My head fell back down as I tried to remember the dream, needed to stay in it for a moment or two longer until my heart rate returned to normal, wanted to pretend she was here beside me flushed with pleasure.

I imagined Claire’s reaction if I told her she haunted my dreams since I arrived here, suddenly the idea of telling her anything hit me like a punch to the stomach, oh god I missed her.

Our calls had been reserved, without saying it, Claire seemed to know I had to be careful of what I said. She didn’t push, but there were things that I wanted to say, they threatened to come bubbling out of me if I didn’t keep myself in check. Knowing each word was noted and logged.

I glanced at my phone to see if she had tried to return any of my calls from the day before. She hadn’t which was odd, she and Willie always rang before bed.

Rising slowly, I showered and prepared for the day. Meeting Geneva at the site before 8am. I had little control over what I did since I arrived. Everything I asked, everything that was asked of me was planned, rehearsed. Rising Geneva out of her bed at stupid o clock, to stand in the pissing rain, was a small triumph in terms of what I could control.

I was bone weary, not so much from the late nights poking and prodding budgets and trying to find a trail, it was the falsity I had to portray when I was around her. Interested.

I glanced at the clock again quickly and tried Claire one more time, she would be waking soon to get Willie ready for school.

It went straight to voicemail. A sliver of anxiety gripped my wame I tried to dismiss it as foolishness, she was probably just asleep, maybe her battery was dead. There was nothing amiss.

____

An hour later, I stood on a cold construction site with Geneva Dunsany, who, apart from a hard construction hat had dressed completely inappropriately for the weather.

As I went through each building explaining what was happening, telling her we were running over, a hopeful look, can she draw down more, how soon can she get it, where could she pull it from. Then let them watch.

I had to work at this, make her trust me. Dinners, sharing of pasts, attentive, make-believe. Never anything I couldn’t come back from, never putting me beyond Claire.

Ignoring her hand on my arm as she asked another nonsensical question about the depth of the Equine Swimming Pool, I forged ahead telling her a larger more expensive design would improve the horse's muscle tone faster, easier trained, quicker sold.

As usual, she bought it, another checkbox ticked.

More dinners, more lies, another set of ears listening and learning. Digging my way out piece by piece.

______

“Ian man, what is going on at home? I have been trying to get Claire on the phone this past two days.” I tried to hide the growing anxiety, Ian would think me daft, but I couldn’t stop it. I had to contact him. Had to know where Claire was.

In hindsight, I should have known instantly, Ian’s voice stuttered slightly, tone hesitant. “Jamie, how are ye, how’s Hellsville?”

I immediately dropped the façade I had planned upon, “what’s wrong with Claire’s phone Ian?”

Another pause.

“Em, I dinna think there is ought wrong with it, man…”

“Is she avoiding me?”

“I’d say that could be more accurate alright.”

Something registered about Ian’s vagueness, almost as bad as my own answers these past few weeks.

“Is Janet listening to ye?”

“Aye.”

“Can ye tell me what I have done to Claire?”

I heard muttering in the background.

“What did Jenny say?”

Another pause.

“She said yer a prick.”

My stomach turned.

“What the hell is wrong Ian, will ye no spit it out and tell Jenny to keep her nib out.”

Ian sighed deeply. “Geneva Dunsany answered yer phone.”

“She what?” I asked incredulously.

“She answered yer phone to Claire?”

My mind was whirling, palms wet. “Why the fuck would she – “

“In the wee hours of the morning” Ian whispered into the phone, I wasn’t sure to protect himself or me.

“When?” – I tried to think quickly, when had she access to my phone, god what was Claire thinking surely she would know I wouldn’t – fuck. I saw her then as clear as day, her face close enough I could touch it. Lips trembling slightly, her back set proudly. A tell she had when she was hardening herself not to cry. “Why Jamie?”

I rucked a hand through my hair, kicking something across the room, “Can you get Claire to talk to me?”

Ian either didn’t hear me or was choosing to ignore me. “She was doing braw Jamie, ye should ha seen her and the lad around the farm helping out, I actually think she mightha stayed…” he trailed off.

“Where is she?”

Suddenly there was shuffling, and Jenny’s voice came on the phone “a bràthair?

“Janet will ye tell Claire –“

“She sat at the table” – Jenny’s tone was nearer a growl “she was fierce, she dinna let Dougal cloud her mind when he insinuated that something was going on with ye and that Dunsany bitch.”

“Claire?” I asked stupidly

“Aye, who do ye think.” Jenny snapped.

“She held her head high and she dinna waiver, but then I said let’s ring Jamie, tell Jamie what the fuck wit of an uncle has been up to, thought we would all have a good laugh at it, I never thought that she would be answering yer fucking phone at 2 o clock in the morning Jamie!” Jenny’s tone was shrill, I knew it she was beyond mad, she was upset.

“Jenny, it’s not what ye think, I dinna ken what Geneva was playing at but – I.”

“Oh she kens exactly what she is playing at” Jenny said through gritted teeth, “She was cute enough to ring Dougal the next morning, told him that she answered yer phone to Claire, said ye were sorry Claire had to find out like that, had Dougal call to Claire in the cottage and do yer bidding .”

A sharp inhale of breath, “In – front – of – Willie” she said pointedly.

My mouth fell open, throat tightening painfully, that conniving bitch, how could I have been so stupid?

“He told Claire” I choked out, “that we were sorry? Jesus”

I said exhaling loudly. Flopping to the bed as my legs gave way.

A voice in the back of my mind kept saying, don’t forget their listening. I didn’t care, I had to know.

“Jenny”, I couldn’t hide the shake in my voice,

“Aye.” Her tone was softer now, her breathing starting to calm.

I swallowed painfully. “Where are Claire and Willie?”

My cheeks were wet, and my heart was thumping so hard I thought it would break through my ribs.

“they’re gone,” she said sorrowfully. “Jamie” – her tone was pleading - “Claire missed ye so much, but she put on such a brave face, the poor lass couldna stay here a day longer thinking ye had betrayed her.”

I pinched my eyes with my thumb and forefinger willing the tears to stop, I sniffed noisily. Jenny’s soft voice was murmuring comfort into the phone, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.

“Can ye explain it to her Jamie, maybe she will listen to ye…”

“that’s the worst of it Janet” I choked into the phone, “I canna explain it, just now.”

The softening sympathetic tone lacing Jenny's voice suddenly reverted to the shriller tone of earlier. “What do ye mean ye canna explain it? For god’s sake, Jamie do ye want to lose them?”

“Are ye mad Janet, of course, I dinna want that – I just need to think a minute will ye let me think.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line, breathing heavily through my nose as I racked my brain trying to come up with a way to tell Claire, to make her understand what was going on here.

Bile was rising up my throat as I imagined her reaction, what she thought of me, how she must hate me. Fear gripping my insides that I wouldn’t be able to change her mind.

Geneva had planned this, as I was busily conspiring against her and her family, she naively believed that if she removed Claire from the picture, there was something to be gained between her and me, that was my fault.

I had brought this on us, I had followed directions, played along to get the answers, didn’t rebuke unwarranted touches or flirtatious smiles. I had led Geneva to believe there was hope. I had left Claire, and I open to this, it didn’t matter that it was a lie, how would I ever explain this without telling her why?

How could I make her believe it was only her for me? That it was laughable, I would ever want Geneva Dunsany in any way.

I couldn’t go to her yet without sabotaging everything. If I left Geneva would never face the consequences of her action, all of this would have been for nothing.

There had been nothing but silence on the phone for a long time, Jenny just waited as if knowing I had to try and work out what I could say.

I… I need to ask something of you, Jenny?" I said, sometime later, my voice sounded different to my own ear, smaller, less almost.

“Yes,” she said without faltering.

“When ye can get through to Claire, will ye tell her two things from me.”

I heard Jenny swallow, and she hoarsely mumbled: “Aye Jamie, go on.”

“Tell her I love her, and tell her not to forget that I am her obligation, so she needs to try to keep her promise.”

Jenny remained silent, probably wondering what the hell I was going on about, but eventually, I heard static and her sure voice saying “Aye, I will a bràthair.”

If nothing else, the fear in my tone had achieved one thing. My sister believed me, without reason or explanation, she knew.

I hung up the phone, one thing clear in my mind. I had to get word to Claire. I couldn’t lose her.

#outlander fanfic #ourson #chp11

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hexhux · 5 years

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My Eighteenth Birthday

Friday, May 3rd, 2019.

An open letter to everyone who has ever loved me. A recap of the year.

Today, I turned eighteen years old. I can’t help but feel incredibly lucky to be here. I’m sure many others who suffer from long-term mental illness can relate, but it is not always a given to make it this far. I have so much farther to go, but because this is such a milestone, I wanted to take a moment to step back and give my thanks to those in my life who have offered their hand to me. This life has been as joyous and wonderful as it has been cruel. For all the times I have sobbed my heart out, grieving and ashamed, I have found an equal amount of pure, forgiving laughter. To everyone, thank you so much.

One of the most important things I have learned so far is to appreciate the small things. To the setting sun, to the flowers called weeds, to the soft sheets, to the warm baths - thank you. To the moon, the stars, the midnight sky - thank you. To the emotional movies, to the memes on the internet, to the books I’ve read a thousand times - thank you. These are the things I have cultivated and loved, even when I thought the sun wouldn’t shine on me any longer. To quote one of my favorite movies of all time, Swiss Army Man, “Everything everywhere matters to everything.” It truly does. Forever. Always.

Grandma: you are the most important person in my life. From the very day I was born, you have been there. Through every stomach ache, nightmare, and painful thought, you have pieced me back together. You taught me what love truly was. Dedication. Sincerity. Empowerment. On all the days I could not love myself, you loved me twice as much. I found true friendship with you. You are the most generous, forgiving, and wholly enveloping person I know. Regardless of whether or not I am happy or sad, your face is the one I want to see. You match me in passion, pride, and persistence. I cannot tell you how much I love you because words do not come close to the feeling inside my heart. Thank you for being my best friend, for the advice, the comfort, and all the times you thoroughly read my fanfiction. You have supported my art and my dreams since the beginning. Thank you, mama.

Ethan: Firstly, let me ask a very, very important question, little brother. Do you have a mic? I’m kidding (lmao). I could not have a better brother. You were my first playmate, my partner in crime, and the person who was always by my side. Never once have we stopped playing. Every moment with you is one of belly-aching laughter and jokes. You bring an incredible light to the life of anyone who knows you. You’re level-headed, compassionate, and the funniest person I know. We’re so similar, but even in our differences, we’ve supported one another fully. You are my other half and I love you so dearly that it’s nearly laughable. You’re an absolute buffoon sometimes, but I’d take you over anyone else any day.

Collin: Ah, yes, my stupid woke best friend. You are the sweetest, kindest person I have ever met. The only person who asks retail workers about their day, even if they clearly hate their job. Nobody else has ever made quite such a dedication to getting to know me. You know the most about me, even if admitting that is embarrassing because the vast majority of my secrets are odd and cringe-worthy. We have been through so many challenges, but we have always made it through because we have a connection unlike no other. You are such a beautiful, encapsulating human being. The bond we have is incomparable to any other, and I cannot thank you enough for being my friend. It isn’t often you meet someone who wants all of you, not just the good parts. You have loved me through the misfortune. And I want you to know that I will forever be there for you. It is an honor to know you, Collin.

Nits: We may have met by chance, but there is nothing accidental about our friendship. I have never encountered someone like you before - someone so bold, strong, and gorgeous. That summer we spent every day together, entangled by movies, music, and a growing fondness that would last forever. To be loved by you is such a gift. Nobody deserves you. I have never so desperately wanted to see someone succeed. We are intertwined and will be forever, I truly hope. You have held my hand and helped me through the bad times, just as I’ve held yours. You are an enigmatic, wondrous, and hopeful soul. Thank you for seeing me for who I am, even when I myself didn’t know who that was at times.

Kiesha: Your comfort and reassurance is never-ending. You have such a warm, broad presence. We have known each other for such a long time and have managed to grow in the same direction. So much love, laughter and acceptance has been cultivated between us. I cannot thank you enough for all those nights spent talking on the phone late at night. For all the times you answered my calls when I was crying after a bad dream and needed another person to exist with me. For all the beta-reading, spelling checks, and long-reading sessions. Thank you for being there and for being the Wade Wilson to my Peter Parker.

Nova: I have never met another person so similar to myself. You’ve given me so much comfort in my identity and existence. You are a lovely, sugary sweet human being, even when you’re badass. You have such a fierce and generous energy, which has enraptured me since the moment we met. We met through hard circumstances, but I believe it was worth it because we found each other. I would relive it a hundred times if you were still standing at the end of it. Our love for one another is so nurturing and wholesome, and I wouldn’t give it up for all the money in the world. Thank you for your friendship, generosity, and patience. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you. Probably throw a fit.

Nikki: You are seriously one of the most interesting people I have ever met. You’re so hilarious, so intriguing, and so sincere. I couldn’t ask for a better friend. Your presence is one I’ll never forget and hope to never live without. I will always hold my hand out to you because I know you’d do the same for me. You’re such a supportive, kind, and affectionate person. You don’t give yourself enough credit for how fuckin’ amazing you are. I’m very glad to call you my friend, and I can’t thank you enough for being mine. You matter so much to me. Thank you for all the playlists, passion, and crude jokes.

Cierra: You are such a beautiful, darling person. We have grown so much together and I could not be happier to call you my friend. Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of having a friend like the teenage girls in the coming of age movies. The type of friendship where you gush about boys, share all of your dreams and uplift each other to the highest degree. I feel so much happiness talking to you, even if it's about nothing at all. You have supported me so thoroughly and have always been such a gentle, soft girl. I am so proud to call you my friend. For all the times we gushed over Tom Holland, thank you.

J: From the very moment we met, we’ve had intense and bold chemistry. You’re so funny and so wise, even if sometimes I want to beat you with a stick. Your love and dedication for me have been such a pleasure. I love that we can spend hours on the phone - talking about everything and nothing at all. You’ve always been there to support me, even in times when I felt too weak to go on. Your love for me has been so enveloping, and I hope you know that I love you just as much. Thank you for giving me the courage to remove toxic people from my life. Thank you for remembering the little things about me. And most of all, thank you for also indulging in my love for oldies beach music. You’re wonderful.

Aisu, Amanda, Sky, and Reez: My wonderful squad! You guys are endlessly supportive, hilarious, and fantastic human beings. Never in my life have I felt so brave and safe with a group of people. It is truly an honor to log onto Twitter and talk to such honest, fantastic friends. No matter what I’m talking about, you guys are always there to encourage me. Through all my writing, my artwork, my strange fantasies - you guys have been there. For all the support of my Kylo Ren fetish, my love for Slenderman, and random infatuations with villians, thank you so much. From the bottom of my heart, I love y’all.

To myself: You’ve made it this far. I know that some days you succumb to the pain, the insecurity, the anguish, but you have truly been so brave. Every time that you’ve fallen, you’ve pushed yourself from the ground and stood on your feet once more. Against all odds, you have made it to eighteen. You are strong. You are smart. You are brave. Even on the days when you wished you were someone else, or gone completely, you have bandaged your wounds and taken care of yourself. I am so proud of you. For once in my life, I am happy to be who I am. I am happy to be you. To inhabit this body. Thank you for never once giving up on yourself, even when you so desperately wanted to. Thank you so much.

I learned so much during my year as seventeen. It hasn’t been easy by any means; there were so many times when I wanted to let go of it all. Recovering from severe depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder has been a long, arduous process. I’ve been in therapy for nearly a full year now, and I’ve come so far in examining my trauma and understanding how to live with it. This year, I’ve done my best to step out of my comfort zone and allow myself to flourish as much as possible. This life can be complicated and heartbreaking, but it’s worth it all. For all the happiness, the love, the sweetness.

Finally, I’d like to list the songs that I’ve played a billion times and have been the biggest comfort.

1. Mariners Apartment Complex by Lana Del Rey

2. O Superman by Laurie Anderson

3. Allentown by Manchester Orchestra & The Front Bottoms

4. I’ll Still Have Me by CYN

5. Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd

Thank you to everyone. For everything.

“Knowing at last what I am, recognizing it, admitting it, confronting it,” - Anaïs Nin

#tate hyperventilates #friends #long post #18th birthday #mental illness tw

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sebtheromanianprince · 6 years

Text

The Bath Bomb Soldier (Pt.3)

(gif by winterlron)

Summary: In a joke of cosmic proportions, you are mysteriously gifted a bath bomb that when used, gives you your very own super soldier.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,778

A/N: I am terribly sorry for taking so long to update! I appreciate your patience so much! Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. As always, thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed it!

Warnings: Most of this chapter is angst. Rodent death. It’s not graphic though.

Previously...

As you rise, his metal hand catches the hem of your shirt. Pausing, you look down to see him squeeze his eyes shut. Compassion blooms warm in your chest at the sight of him.

“I remember,” he says in hushed tones.

It was going to be a long night.

Four am rolls around to find you seated at the kitchen table with Bucky. He’s cupping an untouched mug of chamomile tea in between his hands, the nail of his thumb making slight scratching noises against the blue ceramic handle. You’re not sure if it’s distrust or contained shock that has stopped him from taking a drink, but he has kept an almost vacant gaze trained at the bottom of the cup ever since the both of you sat down to talk. Piecing together what he could remember was a puzzle all its own, but with gentle questions and patience, you were able to figure out a timeline of sorts. Bucky was missing a great deal of his memories. Steve was still a familiar stranger, and HYDRA the thing he must run from.

There were scraps of other memories, however. His body being dragged along snow covered ground. Men in white lab coats, guards, and metal tables. Waking to find himself fitted with a new arm. Mental conditioning sessions. The cold oblivion of a cryotank. The very last thing he recalled was visiting the Smithsonian Institution in Washington D.C. to learn more about Steve and who he was before HYDRA took him.

These key memories told you that this was pre-Civil War Bucky, fresh out of decades long torture and brainwashing. The super soldier’s grasp on his identity was shaky. Dropping the bomb that he wasn’t real in your world made it all the shakier, and you’re not sure how he’s going to come out of it.

He has been sitting quietly for close to an hour now, his forearms resting on the edge of the table. Your laptop rests beside you, closed and charging. Bucky hadn’t wanted to see any more proof and you couldn’t blame him. It made you feel terrible seeing him so unglued that all you could do was sit with him and offer your silent support.

Fatigue and the late hour was getting to you though, and you couldn’t help but rub your stinging eyes. Taking a weary sip of your tea, you try to will the tiredness away. You didn’t want to leave Bucky by himself, not after everything he had seen and learned.

The soft tick of the clock on the kitchen wall beats time to the random scratches of Bucky’s thumb. Together, both sounds take on a lullaby-like quality that makes you squeeze your eyes shut hard for a few seconds to rouse yourself.

“You should sleep,” Bucky murmurs.

Your eyes open at the sound of his voice and find he is still staring into his tea.

“I don’t think I can right now,” you reply, trying to covertly hide a yawn against the lip of your mug. You play it off by taking a long swig of the tepid liquid.

Bucky finally looks up from his drink to lock eyes with you. It takes you so off guard that you stop mid movement, cup halfway back to the tabletop. Exhaustion is written all over his features, from the shadows under his eyes, to the creases lining his forehead and the corners of his mouth. What strikes you most is the look of tired resignation in his eyes. Something twists in your chest at the expression, and you gently set down your mug.

“I can set up the couch for you,” you suggest quietly, “if you want to rest. I have a few extra blankets, and a pillow to spare.”

His gaze falls to where your hands are resting around your tea.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says.

Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you follow his gaze. That’s when you notice your wrist. It’s swollen, and slowly bruising into the shape of fingers, from a dark red into a deep purple. In your worry over Bucky you had forgotten all about it. Now that your attention has been brought back to it, the injury aches and throbs with a beat of its own.

You carefully cradle your wrist with your left hand and tuck both under the table to settle them on your lap. Bucky sits upright against the back of his chair and nudges his untouched tea away. His face has hardened, and it makes concern jump to the forefront of your mind again.

His lips open and close a couple of times, then settle into a tight line. You can hear more than see him wringing his hands against his thighs. Tension is coming back to the set of his shoulders as he glares at his lap, seeing something repulsive there.

“Hey,” you say gently to get his attention.

Bucky closes his eyes, jaw clenching.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out between his teeth.

“It’s okay,” you placate.

He shakes his head. “No.”

In one swift movement he’s out of his seat and heading towards the front door. Your stomach drops in a sickening motion that makes you weak with the panic of watching him walk away. Jumping out of your chair, you follow him without thinking, your body moving of its own volition. You can’t let him go like this, hurting and directionless.

“Wait,” you call after him. “Please don’t go!”

Over his shoulder he replies, “I’m not safe.”

“You are with me,” you disagree. “Nothing will harm you here, I promise.”

Bucky stops completely before turning around. He gives you a hard stare as he stalks back towards you, his steps deliberately menacing. You hold your ground, head held high to meet his intense gaze even as anticipation comes alive in sharp bursts within your chest. He towers over you, so close you can feel the warmth of him.

“You’re not listening. I’m not safe to be around.” His voice carries a hard edge. “I have hurt you once already. I could do it again.”

“You didn’t hurt me out of cruelty,” you point out. “You only did it to ensure your safety. That’s why I said it was okay.”

There is nothing that will shake you from wanting to give Bucky shelter and comfort, not even this attempt at intimidation. You understand how dangerous he is, both from reading the comics and most recently, first hand experience. Still, there is nothing about this man that could ever frighten you into ceasing to care about him. That’s why you’re not allowing him to walk away without first arguing your case, because you’re stubborn like that.

“You could have broken my wrist, but you didn’t,” you continue, chin tilted up, daring him to disagree. “You held back because you’re not someone that enjoys hurting people.”

A loaded silence blankets the living room as you stand there mere inches apart, eyes locked in a battle of wills. You can see his jaw tighten at your words, but he remains silent, searching your face. Hoping that all your concern and faith in him shows on your features, you slowly move closer and gently lay a hand on his upper arm.

“You’re not a bad person, Bucky,” you whisper with conviction. “And I’m not afraid of having you here. On the contrary, I would like for you to stay. I’d worry about you otherwise.”

His gaze falls to where you’re touching him, the bath bomb glitter still clinging to you both. Bucky’s breath comes shallowly between softly parted lips, and it’s like you can almost see the gears turning in his head, considering every option. You’re still trying to decide if you should stop touching him when he backs away a step, your fingers slipping down his leather clad forearm.

Swallowing down your hurt, you ball up your hand against your thigh. You can feel the telltale prickles at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away, willing yourself not to cry.

“Why?”

The question is said quietly, but it is no less demanding of an explanation. He darts glances between your face and the fist at your side, taking note of your reactions. Not knowing how to answer, you unclench your hand and start trying to rub the glitter off your knuckles.

It’s a long time coping mechanism of yours when in emotionally charged situations, to find something small and repetitive to do while you think. It usually helps you to remain calm, and this time it works. Organizing your thoughts as best you can, you gaze unseeingly at his boots.

“I don’t know how or why you appeared in my bathtub. Honestly, I’m still not sure that I’m not dreaming all of this up,” you confess. “What I do know is that you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. It’s just...you don’t have to do it alone, you know?”

Bucky’s exhale is a whisper in the stillness of the apartment. You peek up to see him taking in the modest surroundings, a wistful look adorning his face.

“I don’t think I’m worth all this,” he breathes.

The ache that grips your heart at his words is becoming all too familiar. The man could really pull at your heartstrings. And you were so damn inarticulate that it was difficult to put your feelings into words. It didn’t help that his presence made your thoughts scattered like leaves in a gust of wind. Still, you had to make him understand.

“No, you’re not,” you agree.

The despondent cast of his eyes makes your next words sound with conviction.

“You’re worth far more.” Your hands fall to your sides, relaxed.

Fervor has brought a sweeping wave of clarity and steadiness to your tired mind, the likes of which you haven’t felt in many years. You don’t know if it’s the possibility that Bucky will stay that has made you so unshakeable or that you have nothing to lose, but the words suddenly come out from deep within.

“You deserve a hell of a lot better too,” you affirm, “but this is all I have. If you’ll let me, I am happy to be your friend. It’s hard enough to start from zero but harder still with no one to lend a hand.”

A bright sheen lines his eyes as you hold him still with your gaze. Tentatively, you reach out once more, swollen wrist and all, to gently grasp the cool metal fingers.

“Please, Bucky. Let me help.”

He blinks rapidly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he works to swallow. You feel him curl his fingers tenderly around yours and keep his hold.

“Alright,” he murmurs. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?” you ask surprised.

At this point you’re happy to promise him anything if it will keep him where you can see him, ready to jump to his aid at a moment’s notice.

“Don’t do anything stupid because of me,” he implores.

You lightly squeeze his hand, a small smile curving your lips. “Nothing stupid. Got it.”

A comfortable silence settles over the both of you. Bucky’s metal fingers begin to warm under your careful touch, and you find yourself absentmindedly sliding your thumb in soothing swipes along the first knuckles of the hard digits. His eyelashes make tiny shadows along the tops of his cheekbones as he watches your thumb move, the lines of his face relaxing as the seconds go by. You can feel the beginnings of something soft beginning to swell in your chest, and then suddenly brush against your bare toes-

A mouse, wetly matted and struggling past your foot.

Shrieking, you drop Bucky’s hand and spring on top of the coffee table. Nausea roils your stomach as you see it stop near his boot to spasm weakly.

“What the hell-” the baffled man says as he looks down.

Covering your mouth against the vomit threatening to rise up your throat, you watch as Bucky picks up the mouse by its tail. It flails sluggishly in midair for a few moments before going completely still. The beady black eyes seem to stare at you, and gagging, you motion for him to throw it out. Instead, the soldier inspects it.

“It’s got teeth marks,” he deadpans.

“Oh god, get rid of it,” you gag. “Please. It’s grossing me out.”

As he moves away, you rub your tired face with both hands. You’ve had enough excitement for one night and you just want to go to sleep. Hopping down from the coffee table, you take several breaths through your nose to settle your stomach.

“I’m gonna get you some blankets,” you call over your shoulder, making your way back down the hall. The farther away you are from that nasty mouse, the better.

Reaching your room, you set on going through your closet, pulling out a couple of neatly folded comforters. You place them on the bed and grab a pillow from against the headboard before turning back again to consider the clothes sitting folded on the high shelf of the closet.

It was possible you might have something Bucky could change into that wasn’t the black, skin tight leather of his battle gear. Tossing the pillow atop the comforters, you carefully move the neat piles of clothes around, searching.

Towards the back you find a mound of haphazardly thrown garments and instantly recognize them as your brother’s old stuff. He hadn’t wanted the old shirts and basketball shorts, so he’d hoisted them onto you to deal with when you moved, claiming you could use them as chore clothes or extra pajamas. As you pull them out, you find that there is also a pair of faded black sweats. In that moment you send a silent thanks to your brother for being such a flake.

Grabbing a light blue shirt to go with the sweats, you gather it together with the blankets and the pillow before heading back to the living room. Bucky is drying his hands on a kitchen towel when you walk in. He drops it back next to the dish rack, watching you put the load on the coffee table. Separating the clothes from the bedding, you throw him a triumphant grin.

“I found you some clothes,” you beam. “I think they’ll fit.”

Bucky walks over and picks up the clothes while you busy yourself stretching out the blankets across the couch. Satisfied that they’re comfortably placed, you turn around to see the super soldier holding up your brother’s shirt against his chest. He’s frowning down at the design on the front, and you stifle a laugh when you read it.

A white periodic table square takes up the shirt’s middle. Inside it is the word “imnotshurium” atop a big “Um” with a line of five question marks below it. Set below the square is a description that reads “the element of indecision”.

“My brother is a dork,” you chuckle. “His clothes tend to display that. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says, turning his attention to the sweats.

You smile to yourself and set the pillow at one end of the couch. It hits you then that he is really staying. A sense of relief and optimism washes warmly through you and couples with fatigue to make your body feel incredibly light. If you didn’t know better, you could swear that it would take only a thought to start floating up to the ceiling. He was staying, and you could watch over him as he made his way through this world, at peace at last.

Rustling sounds of fabric bring you back abruptly, and you realize Bucky has started to change clothes behind your back. He’s got the light blue shirt pulled on his shoulders, and your face flushes as he brings it down the muscular planes of his back to cover a set of back dimples from view. While the shirt had hung comfortably loose on your brother, on Bucky it remained tight, defining the lines of his musculature. Clearing your throat nervously, you turn away.

“Uh, if you need anything else just go ahead and help yourself,” you say as evenly as possible. “Mi casa es su casa and all that.”

“Thank you,” he replies.

“Yeah,” you answer lamely. “No problem.”

With that, you go back to your room before you can hear him begin to take off his pants. Your overactive imagination doesn’t need the material right now when rest is the goal. Yawning profusely, you opt for leaving the bedroom door open in case Bucky needs anything.

Climbing gratefully into bed, you snuggle down into your pillow and wrap the blanket tightly around yourself. In the quiet of the house, you can just make out the sounds of him lying down on the couch. Again, a smile overtakes your face, and feeling tiredly content, you shut your eyes and quickly drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The Bath Bomb Soldier Tags: @cvtlore @wantingtobekorra @shayla-markele @38leticia @lilac-meadows @thegothicdancer @kileybird @queenrhae666 @thatcatoveryonder @mythrealfan @vesper-lou @celinejfong @buckyshattergirl @cecifina @tigerliliesandcherryblossoms @hotemotionalmess

#The Bath Bomb Soldier #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #the winter soldier #bucky barnes #fics

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thewhiterabbit42 · 6 years

Text

Fragments

Part 5 of Home for the Holidays (Masterlist)

Summary: The past continues to bleed into the present, but you find not all the pieces that resurface are unpleasant.

Pairings: (eventual) Gabriel x Reader

Warnings/tags: Human Gabriel, slow burn, implied PTSD, bed sharing, mutual pining

Word Count: 2859

Special thanks to my wonderful beta @sumara62 for all her help and support. You are truly invaluable, my dear, for many, many reasons <3

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission. Giving credit does NOT count. Reblogging is ok.***

<<Previous Chapter Fragments Next Chapter>>

You were getting too old for this.

The first thing you became aware of was the stiffness that sang through your muscles, creating a symphony of discord and discomfort throughout your body.

The second was that you were practically sprawled across an empty bed.

You and Gabriel had made the arrangement to sleep under different covers. He offered to take the sheets and the lighter blanket, allowing you the luxury of the comforter. You found yourself half wrapped up in the puffy monstrosity with your arm and leg thrown over the now empty of pile of bedding that belonged to him. You hoped your migration had occurred after he’d gotten up or else you were never going to hear the end of it, though he’d actually have to speak in order for that to happen.

Clearly, this arrangement was going to take some getting used to.

You found him standing in front of the window with his back to you. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders slumped. What struck you was how still he looked. You could never recall him standing in one spot for more than a few minutes, not without that overflowing, almost manic energy of his making him sway or resulting in dramatic gestures. The calmness about him was anything but comforting. Something about it unnerved you, as if he was too still.

You rolled yourself across the mattress, pulling the comforter with you as you threw your legs over the side. Still ensconced in the warm, downy goodness, you began to make your way toward him, the bulk of the blanket trailing along behind you.

“How long have you been up?” Your voice was thick and groggy as you stifled a yawn.

You stopped beside him, and he shrugged, the gesture more empty than casual. “I can’t really tell. It feels… strange.”

He looked distant, almost as if his body was there but the rest of him was on a completely different plane. The world must have felt so different to him, and you wondered if that look was simply a reflection of how he felt.

“How?” You asked. You wanted to understand what he was going through so you could help him, not that you were certain he would accept it. You didn’t expect him to answer. The old Gabriel would have danced away from the topic, deflected, or simply turned it around on you. Now, you’d be lucky to get a noncommittal shrug.

“Longer in some ways. Shorter in others.” He glanced sideways at you as if sensing your surprise. “Colder.” His lips turned up slightly into that small, partial smirk.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “There’s still no way you’re getting under my blanket.”

He hadn’t actually tried, but he had complained that it was chilly even with his covers. You hoped teasing him might help bring him back from wherever he currently was.

He let out a soft snort and something briefly sparkled in amber. For a moment, you thought he was about to toss something back at you. Whatever it was fizzled out, however, and the small flare of warmth retreated once more.

“Don’t you think you should get more sleep?” He changed the subject, and in his defense, you couldn’t imagine you looked much better than before. You didn’t feel rested, just a little less like death warmed over.

Now it was your turn to shrug. “There’s always tonight.”

The way the sun was already low across the sky, night wasn’t that far off. While your brain had only intended to sleep for a few hours, the rest of you had had other plans. Your nap had stretched well into the afternoon leaving only an hour or two of daylight left.

“We should probably check some of the warding along the perimeter,” you suggested. You knew your friends were cautious enough to keep it in good condition, but it made you nervous to see all the broken brush and leaves still along the edge of the grounds.

A low rumbling caught your ears from beside you, reminding you that there were other priorities to consider.

“Come on,” you told him. “Let’s go see what we can find in the kitchen first.”

***

With only a handful of things left in the fridge, you added grocery shopping to your list of errands for the next day. The cereal you found, however, was certainly an upgrade from your previous meals.

The two of you ate in silence. You were too busy running over the to-do list in your mind and willing away the aches that continued to blossom throughout your body. Gabriel continued to have that thoughtful, faraway look. Eventually you noticed the longer it held, the further he slipped away.

You didn’t start to worry until he went completely still again.

You shot up in bed as the sound of banging cupboards startled you awake. Adrenaline jolted through your system, your instincts on high alert as you trained your gun on the figure roaming around the small motel kitchen.

“Gabriel?” You breathed, thoroughly confused as you watched him haphazardly continue to open and close random doors and drawers. You rubbed some of the sleep from your eyes, as he pulled out a box of cereal before disappointedly tossing it on the counter.

“Don’t you ever have anything with marshmallows?” He complained.

“Sorry, there’s nothing with marshmallows in it,” you teased, wondering if he’d remember. That wasn’t the only night he’d dropped that line or woken you up by ransacking your kitchen. At first, you couldn’t find any logical reasoning behind it other than him being obnoxious, until you noticed how food would mysteriously appear afterwards.

It was always something subtle, something you or your brother might grab without the other noticing. You had no idea it was happening until he messed up one day by leaving you a box of microwave popcorn after you’d specifically gone out for some and come up empty handed.

The look on his face didn’t fade, but you caught the way the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “You never have anything with them.”

You’d buy that man a mountain of marshmallows if it would lighten whatever was weighing on him. “Maybe we can fix that.”

He made an ambivalent sound, his gaze dropping down as he began to push the cereal around in his bowl. He seemed done with the conversation, but you weren’t about to be discouraged.

“How are you holding up?” It was the wrong thing to say, or maybe it was too direct for him to handle. The moment the question let your mouth he stiffened. He didn’t quite bristle, but he did sound a little like a cat whose tail had just been yanked.

“I’m human,” he stated, as if that was all he needed to say. The sourness in his tone gave you a fairly good idea how he felt about that.

“I’m sorry.” The words felt wholly inadequate, but you were at a loss of what else to say. You couldn’t imagine what it felt like, having power second to only God, and having it ripped away from you.

“Not your fault,” he muttered, his tone softening as he jammed his spoon into the bowl and shoved some more cereal into his mouth, as if eating would magically ward away any further conversation. You took the hint, and though you weren’t as hungry anymore, you forced yourself to finish anyway. There was no way you would be of any use to him if you didn’t start taking care of yourself.

Gabriel’s gaze no longer wandered, and at least he seemed more grounded again. Unfortunately, that meant his focus remained stuck in the present and all that it entailed. Slowly it began to shift, his eyes flicking surreptitiously to you. You debated whether to say something about it, but you figured you didn’t need to find out if you had room in your mouth for your other foot tonight.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he finally insisted, though the resolve beneath his words grew quieter with the next statement. “You still don’t have to.”

You glanced up, not expecting that to be the topic of discussion. You lowered your spoon, fumbling for a response. You thought he knew how you felt about him. Well, not fully, but enough to understand it was never a decision. Helping him just… was. Like the breath in your lungs and the heaviness nestled around your heart.

You licked your lips, hoping to settle this once and for all. “Gabriel --”

“-- Thank you,” he interrupted. The words sounded stilted and you wondered just how many times he’d ever used that phrase sincerely.

“Thank you for helping save the world.” You smiled sheepishly, realizing you had yet to actually thank him for that. From the look on his face, you might have been the first one to do so.

He nodded. You wanted to say more, but when his eyes dropped back into his dish, he clearly didn’t. You didn’t know what else to say. Talking about the weather or what he’d missed on TV seemed too superficial and almost insulting to your relationship.

Then again maybe silence was what he needed, and for him to take the lead when he was ready.

You decided to leave it be, and were rewarded for your patience when he looked back up at you a few minutes later.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he began, his tone edging a little closer to normal. “How’s Tony?”

Your spoon slipped out of your hand--

--panicked twisting, iron grips around your arms, closing around your throat, unyielding, growing tighter with warning, a chill across your skin, beneath that touch, within your veins--

--a startling clatter echoing throughout the room as it hit your bowl. You hadn’t heard your brother’s name since the funeral. Most people knew better than to mention it anymore.

“Y/n?”

You’d never heard Gabriel sound so uncertain before. It was enough to cut through the sentiments trying to claw their way out from where you kept them buried. You swallowed, pushing against the pain and blinking back the sharp sting of tears. “He’s dead.”

His features dropped, and you watched him turn a few shades paler. “I - I didn’t - shit, sweet tart, I’m sorry.”

Sweets, gumdrop, honey buns, he had a never-ending supply of nicknames for you and every pretty face he came across, but this one had somehow become yours. Hearing it helped keep you from getting lost in the riptide, and for the first time since you’d picked him up, you felt like your Gabriel was there again.

“Not your fault,” you murmured, quickly rising and abandoning what was left of your bowl in the sink. You turned the water on, intending to rinse your things. Instead, you absently let it run as you leaned against the edge of the counter, weariness settling over you once more.

You rubbed a hand over your face, feeling a familiar, prickling pain wind its way up through the base of your skull. It was barbed and bitter, well on its way to creating a headache. You turned the faucet off again, your bowl completely forgotten.

“It’s going to rain,” you announced, your eyes straying out the window, not surprised in the least to find clouds gathering on the horizon. “I think maybe we should just try to get some sleep. We can ward the room for tonight and check the grounds tomorrow.”

Gabriel moved beside you, silently dropping his dish next to yours. He looked like he wanted to speak, gold overflowing with something soft and malleable. The moment for it passed, however, and whatever it was remained unspoken as he trailed silently back up the stairs behind you.

You went through your routine on autopilot, too lost in thought to consider the fact you were about to share a bed with Gabriel. Sure, you had earlier, but napping was different.

“Go away, I’m tired,” you grumbled, doing your best to ignore the archangel jumping on the end of your bed.

“I have all the time in the world, sugar plum,” he reminded, continuing to make your body jostle every time his feet hit the mattress.

“Do something,” you whined to your brother who was stretched out across the other bed, casually flipping through a lore book as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“This is why I don’t take in strays,” Tony reminded.

“Did you hear what he just said?” You feigned indignance, hoping to deflect his attention onto your less-than-helpful sibling. “Are you going to let him get away with calling you that?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Gabriel tutted, giving a final, exaggerated leap before diving toward you. He landed effortlessly on his side, his head propped up on his elbow, not a hair out of place while the resulting impact bounced you over the edge. Your limbs became a flailing mass of ungraceful panic before something invisible caught you, deftly tossing you back up onto the sheets.

“You have no idea what you’re missing out on,” he insisted. “There’s a whole world out there you’ve never seen…”

You glared at him. “The only thing I want to see right now is the inside of my eyelids. Besides, I can’t just take off. We’re in the middle of a case.”

His eyes glanced up at the ceiling, lips pursed thoughtfully. A moment later he raised his hand and snapped. “Problem solved. It was a maenad, by the way, and you’re welcome. Now, where should we go?”

“To sleep,” you grumbled, turning your back to him.

You could have screamed when you felt the pillow yanked out from underneath you.

“Tonyyyy,” you whined, your eyes flicking to where your brother had hidden a sigil near the side of his bed. It hadn’t been for Gabriel, but blasting his hide across Creation seemed like a good idea right now.

“Not my archangel, not my problem,” your brother told you, tossing the book on the end table. He gave a languid stretch before pulling out his laptop. “Thanks for the afternoon off, Goldy,” he finger gunned at your unwelcome guest. “I’ve been dying to play this new game that just dropped.”

You grabbed your other pillow, debating who you wanted to smother more: your brother, the pain in the ass behind you, or yourself.

“Sorry, sweets, if you can’t play with things properly…”

You whipped around, jabbing him in the chest with your finger. “Leave me with nothing to lay on and I swear to your father, Gabriel...”

He smirked, gold dancing with amusement in a way that did not bode well for you. Your jaw clenched. That smirk widened. His hand crept up, drawing out the moment until your stomach was a nervous tangle of anticipation. He finally snapped, and your eyes slipped shut, your entire body cringing as you awaited your fate.

Warmth and surprising softness enveloped the side of your face, the smell of peppermint and cotton candy tickling at your nose. There was something else beneath it, something you could only describe as inherently masculine, divine -- Gabriel.

You cracked an eye open to find him now sprawled across the bed sideways, your head resting on top of his stomach. He was lounging on the pillows he’d stolen, his hands behind his head as he grinned down at you, waiting for you to unleash your fury. Only you couldn’t get past the fact that he was so warm, his skin a simmering inferno that his clothes couldn’t contain. The combination of heat and his scent was surprisingly relaxing, and you found your irritation melting away.

You drew your arms and legs into your body, settling yourself into a particularly soft spot on him. “Joke’s on you, feathers, I’ve slept worse places.”

There were nights long after he’d died where you could swear you smelled him, that unique combination teasing along your senses. You could almost smell it now…

You splashed cold water on your face, dispelling the thoughts. It was clear that angel was gone, at least for the time being.

By the time you’d changed and come out of the bathroom, Gabriel was already in bed with his eyes closed. You turned off the light, just enough filtering in from outside to allow you to find your way across the room. You slipped beneath the comforter, wrapping yourself snugly within it, as if it would safeguard you from all the uncertainties you faced and from the other, less pleasant pieces of your past trying to invade the present.

Being haunted by what had happened wasn’t unusual, but those little snippets of warmth resurrected alongside Gabriel helped make the world seem a little less empty. Just his presence was a comfort, though you couldn’t feel it the way you used it. It used to be so large and overpowering, but now your senses faintly tingled with the knowledge that he was lying just behind you. Either way, it was nice not to be alone anymore.

You had no idea how much better he felt knowing you were there as well.

Next Chapter>>

ALL the tags:

@girl-next-door-writes @sumara62 @fand0maniac @feelmyroarrrr @omgreganlove @jannalionheart @baritonechick, @deaths-maiden @lucifer-in-leather @stone-met @blondecoffeecake @raspberrypuddle @ourloveisforthelovely @the-moose-of-baskerville @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll @tistai @christinalibertymikaelson @room-with-a-cat @authoressskr @revwinchester @flufy07 @greieba

Gabe Squad:

@theblackenedsky @bloodstained-porcelain-doll @pepperwoodatnight @lacqueluster @samikitten @a-vast-african-plain @onlyanothersocialcasualty @kazosa @carryon-wayward-winchester @nobodys-baby-now @dlb1999 @ludwigs-a-monster @archangelgabriellives @a-wing-and-a-pen @tricksterxangel

Home for the Holidays: @unleashthemidnight @4evergeek @schizonephilim @winchestergirl-13 @keepingcalmisoverratedgoddamnit

#Gabriel x reader #gabriel fluff #gabriel series #fluff #bed sharing #mutual pining #slow burn #home for the holidays #rabbit writes

91 notes · View notes

some1foundme · 7 years

Text

Fic: Lost in the Memory ch. 2

Title: Lost in the Memory

Author: Some1FoundMe

Rating: M

Summary: Oliver Queen returns to his home in Star City after a five year tour overseas, much to the delight of his friends and family. There’s just one small problem. The injury that effectively ended his military career also erased a part of his memory. As he struggles to put together the missing pieces of his past, his connection to his best friend’s little sister becomes something he can’t avoid. Who is Felicity Merlyn and why can’t he seem to stay away from her? Olicity AU, no Arrow, no island.

A/N: This is the first of two notes. Thank you to everyone who took a moment to read the first chapter of this. The response really blew me away. I will try to reply to all of the comments as soon as I can. I hope you enjoy the second installment and I’ll see you all again on Thursday! See the end for note number two.

Read it on AO3 or ff.net.

Chapter Two

She stumbled through her front door, her body weighed down by fatigue, and went straight to the sofa. Thea skipped into the house behind her, discarding her shoes and coat in the entryway before bounding up the stairs. Felicity sighed and settled into the couch cushions. She didn’t bother calling Thea back down to pick up her belongings.

By the time she and Sara and Iris had served the last customer and closed down Verdant for the night, Oliver and Moira had been long gone. Thea had sat in the booth they’d vacated, working on her homework while she’d waited and had talked incessantly on the short drive home. It was a trait that they shared, the need to ramble on and on, and Felicity hadn’t been surprised that Oliver had been the sole topic of conversation. She had smiled and nodded along, interjecting a random thought here and there, but by the time they’d pulled into the driveway, Felicity was at the end of her rope. She needed a little bit of peace and quiet. She loved Thea dearly but she wasn’t ashamed to admit that being the solitary caregiver of an energetic eleven year old wasn’t what Felicity had wanted for herself at twenty-six.

The couch shifted beneath her as Thea threw herself down on it.

“Aunt Felicity, can I have a snack?”

Felicity snorted. It was almost midnight.

“Not a chance, kiddo. It’s way past your bedtime. Get into your PJs and brush your teeth please. Then bed.”

Thea sighed but didn’t argue. When she heard the water shut off in the bathroom sink, Felicity closed her eyes again and rested her head on the back of the sofa.

The pounding ache behind her eyes had been persistent all night. To say that her day had been stressful would be putting it lightly. It would have been a relief to lock herself away in the sanctuary of her bedroom, curl up in the center of her bed and sleep through the next forty-eight hours. And that is exactly what she would’ve done if the thought of spending yet another night alone in her bed didn’t cause pain to wind its way around her already broken heart.

In the five years that Oliver had been away, she’d had warring emotions where her bedroom was concerned. She had felt grief, sharp and lingering, every time that she let herself think about the empty space beside her. That vast expanse of mattress that was cold without Oliver there to fill it. And there were other times when she found comfort in that room, in the space that they’d shared, a place where so many of their memories lived. Tonight, she knew, it would be grief that met her at the door.

With a soft sigh, Felicity stood and headed for the fireplace, to the mantle that was crowded with dozens of photos. Dozens of moments that she never wanted to forget captured on film. Most every frame held an image focused on the same four subjects. Tommy and Laurel, Oliver and Felicity. The photos told the story of their lives, their relationships, as they’d grown from children, to teenagers, to adults. There were a small handful of photos that included Sara or a very tiny Thea, but Felicity had kept the mantle as a sort of shrine to the people that she had loved most in the world.

She reached for the largest frame and examined the smiling faces beneath the glass.

“Lis, would you hurry up already? We’re going to be late!”

Felicity inspected her reflection in the mirror and adjusted her hair for what felt like the millionth time. Nervous butterflies beat rapidly in her stomach.

“I’m coming!” she called back.

She flipped off the light as she stepped out of the bathroom and met her sister-in-law at the top of the stairs. Laurel smiled brightly.

“Well?” Felicity asked.

She tugged at the hem of the short plum colored dress anxiously.

“You look beautiful, Lis,” Laurel assured her, “Oliver isn’t going to know what hit him.”

Heat flooded her cheeks at Laurel’s praise. She had picked the dress for him specifically and she hoped desperately that he liked it. She wanted him to love it.

Laurel held out her hand and Felicity grasped it tightly.

“What time is it anyway?” she asked.

Laurel laughed, “I have no idea, you were just taking too long!”

The harsh ring of her cellphone startled her back into the present and she nearly dropped the photo. She set it back carefully among the others before rummaging in her bag for her phone.

“Hello?” she answered quietly, aware that Thea was most likely asleep.

“Felicity?”

“Yes? Who is this? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Her eyes flickered to the clock. Almost an hour had passed since she’d sent Thea to bed.

“I know, honey, I’m sorry. It’s Doc Hawkins. Felicity, your father’s here. He’s had more than a few too many. I can’t let him drive like this but we don’t close for a couple of hours or I’d drive him myself. Think you can come and get him?”

Felicity bit her lip to stop the expletive laced reply that wanted to escape. She should have known. Doc owned a small late-night diner on the other side of town. It was one of the places that her father frequented after a binge.

She sighed, “Sure, Doc, I’ll be there. It’ll take me a few minutes to get Thea in the car but I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, honey. I’m sorry to do this to you again.”

She threw her phone into her purse and shoved her hands into her hair. She’d lost count of all the times that she’d had to be her father’s DD, of all the times that she’d had to drag a sleepy Thea across town because her father was too drunk to drive and too much of an asshole to let anyone else help him.

Fifteen minutes later Felicity carried Thea to her truck and loaded her into the backseat. As she backed out of the drive, she cranked the heat and willed her teeth to stop chattering.

“Where are we going?” Thea mumbled.

She glanced in her rearview mirror and wasn’t surprised to find her niece with her eyes closed and bundled into her heavy winter coat. Her bright pink hat and scarf contrasted sharply with the dark gray wool.

“We have to go and pick up Papa,” she explained.

Thea didn’t respond and Felicity didn’t need to check to know that she’d fallen asleep again. They’d been here before and they both knew that they’d be there again.

Pulling up in front of Doc’s place, she threw the truck in park and ran inside.

“Hey, honey,” Doc called as she came in, “He’s down there on the end.”

Malcolm Merlyn sat at the far end of the counter, the stools around him empty, with a cup of what she could only hope was coffee clutched between his hands. She strode determinedly toward him. She was conditioned for a confrontation when facing her inebriated father. It certainly wasn’t a pleasant experience but it was one that she was all too familiar with.

“Hey dad,” she said quietly, with a patience she reserved only for him, “Do you need a ride home?”

The look that he gave her could only be described as scathing. She sighed.

“I can drive myself home,” he snapped, his words slurred.

Embarrassment colored her cheeks. It was late but that didn’t mean that the dining room at Doc’s was empty. She took a slow breath and braced herself for more of a fight.

“Dad, please… Thea and I came all the way out here to get you, the least you could do is let me drive you home.”

“I don’t recall asking you to come and get me. I don’t need a damn ride!”

Felicity flinched. She was aware of the gawking. She’d felt it at Verdant and she certainly felt it now. Her father was making a scene, again, and a part of her was tempted to let him find his own way home. She could ask Doc to call the police the moment he pulled out of the parking lot and let him suffer for his own poor decisions. But there was no way that she could, that she would. She owed it to her father, to Tommy and to their mother, to take care of their family. What was left of it.

“Dad, if you don’t leave with me right now, Doc is going to call Sheriff Diggle to come and get you,” she threatened, “Is that what you want? To spend another night locked up?”

He huffed indignantly and shoved to his feet, swaying the moment his legs were all that was supporting him.

“Then I’ll drive myself.”

Felicity opened her mouth to let him know exactly what she thought of that decision when Doc spoke over her shoulder.

“Damn it, Malcolm, give your girl a break. Let her take you home. “

Her father’s gaze swung between the two of them before he finally gave up. Felicity watched his shoulders sag, watching him sway just a little for the second time, and then he was turning toward the door. He threw his hands up and mumbled something that she couldn’t hear. She gave Doc a quick nod before hurrying after him.

They settled into the truck in silence. It wasn’t until she was turning out of the parking lot onto Route 22 that her father decided to speak up.

“I heard that Oliver came home,” he muttered, “Moira had the gall to bring him to the house today. Said he wanted to pay his respects after what happened to Tommy. Did you know that he was coming back here?”

She cast a quick glance in his direction and found him glaring at her. Her hackles rose and she clutched the steering wheel tightly.

“Dad, Oliver’s life is here. His family, his friends, everything that he had before he enlisted in the service is here in Star City. It makes perfect sense that he’d come home eventually.”

It was clear that he hadn’t grasped the extent of Oliver’s injuries. He didn’t know about the amnesia.

“That bastard killed your brother, Felicity! I don’t care who or what he was to you before Tommy died, he –“

“Dad! You and I both know that Oliver did not kill Tommy!”

They’d enlisted in the service at the same time, right out of high school. It had been Tommy’s dream, really, all he’d ever talked about doing after graduation, but her father had needed someone to blame. He’d needed someone to take his grief out on. That honor had fallen on Oliver. And when Oliver hadn’t been able to return to Star City for Tommy’s funeral, his absence had only added fuel to the blazing fire of her father’s ire.

“He was there!” her father shouted, “He was there and he was supposed to watch out for him. They were brothers. Brothers protect one another. I never should’ve let him go.”

Felicity turned down the narrow road that led to her family home. It had been years since she’d stepped inside. Her father didn’t ask her in on the nights that she drove him home and she had no desire to invite herself over. That house hadn’t been her home in a long time. Before Tommy died, before her mom, she had loved the big house where she’d been raised. Now, she thought of it as a tomb.

She pulled into the drive, getting as close to the main entrance as she dared, and threw the truck into park.

“You know damn well that you couldn’t have stopped Tommy, even if you had tried. He knew what he was signing up for. He wanted to be a part of something. He wanted to make a difference. And you know that Oliver loved Tommy. They were brothers. And losing him was as hard on Oliver as it was on all of us. But at least you had me and Thea. Oliver was alone over there, Dad,” Felicity reminded him, “So for god’s sake, please stop trying to convince everyone that he had something to do with Tommy’s death. No one believes you anyway.”

Her father shoved open the door, letting in a blast of frigid air, and slid off of the seat. His boots crunched in the packed snow that covered the driveway.

“Not only did he get my son killed, he’s got my daughter so hung up on him that she can’t see what a monster he is.”

The door slammed shut and Felicity watched him round the truck and disappear inside.

She took a slow, deep breath before backing out onto the road and heading home. She cut through the neighborhood, shaving a couple of minutes off of her drive, and focused on the road. The exhaustion that she’d felt earlier in the night hit her again like a gale force wind, taking every ounce of energy that she had left and leaving her brain foggy. She wanted to sleep. Badly. But she was only a few blocks from home when she spotted him. He was standing on the sidewalk at the corner of Bleaker and Elm, his arms crossed over his chest, his breath ghosting on every exhale.

Felicity slowed to a stop beside him and rolled down the passenger side window.

“Hey, um, Oliver? Are you – are you okay? Do you need a ride?”

He stood motionless for a few too many heartbeats, staring at her blankly, before something clicked and he stepped up to the truck.

“Felicity. Thank god.”

He wrenched open the door and climbed into the seat that her father had recently vacated. She noticed his clothes – a pair of sweats and a damp Henley – as well as the color in his cheeks.

He was shivering.

“You were out running? At this hour?” she asked, turning the heat up as high as it would go while angling all of the vents in his direction.

He shrugged, “I’m still on Baghdad time, apparently. I don’t sleep well during the night.”

She watched as he rubbed his hands together and blew on his fingers to get them warm again. Her eyes traveled over him, taking in all of the features that she had missed for the last five years. His sweat-soaked shirt clung to the sculpted muscles of his chest and arms and Felicity’s fingers flexed. She kept them wrapped firmly around the wheel. The pain that she’d kept locked up in a little box buried deep inside of her threatened to erupt.

“Felicity. You’re staring.”

Her eyes flew to his face and she flushed.

“I – I’m sorry,” she stuttered, “Are you… did you get lost?”

It was his turn to flush, the color in his cheeks deepening, and he ducked his head.

“They all look the same. The houses. I just got a little turned around. I – It’s been a while.”

She nodded, “Right. Five years.”

Questions lit up his eyes and she immediately wished that she could take the words back.

“How did you –“

“Tommy,” she rushed, “Tommy’s last deployment date was five years ago last month. You left together.”

“Right. Tommy… Felicity, listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t get a chance to say anything earlier. He was my best friend. I’m so sorry that he’s gone. I wanted to tell you that. At Verdant. But my mom didn’t think that it was a good idea. You were upset when you saw me. Was it because – because I’m here and he’s not?”

Her heart felt as if it were splintering. He had no idea. No recollection of her, of their friendship. The words that he spoke, his apology, he might as well have been talking to a stranger. There wasn’t a single part of him that recognized her as anything other than his best friend’s little sister.

“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you,” he continued, “The fact that I don’t remember you probably isn’t helping, right? Tommy and I were so close. I – I have all of these memories of him but… This whole amnesia thing is really fucking everything up. People see me and they expect me to know them, to remember, but then I can’t place them and I feel like an asshole. My cousin Nyssa? She came by the house to see me today. I had no clue who she was. As you can imagine, she wasn’t exactly happy about it.”

Felicity snorted, “Yeah, I bet. You two have always been really close. She’s a friend of mine, actually.”

“I know, trust me, she made sure that I knew. Everyone has been talking about you. My parents are really worried.”

Tears blurred her vision and she forced herself to look away. She didn’t want to fall apart, not again. He was struggling, that much was obvious, but everyone they knew seemed to be more worried about her. It wasn’t fair. He needed them as much as she did, maybe more, and her guilt at taking that attention from him only served to heighten her already tumultuous emotional state.

“Do you – do you have custody of her? Of Thea?” he asked, his eyes falling on her niece where she slept in the backseat.

She was thankful for the change of subject.

Nodding, she said, “Since Tommy died. But she lived with me before. While the two of you were overseas.”

“What about her mom?” he asked, then, looking sheepish, he added, “I’m sorry. I have no right to ask.”

She sighed, dragging her fingers through her hair, and tried to give him a genuine smile.

“Thea is your goddaughter, Oliver. If there’s anything you want to know, just ask. And her mom, Laurel, she died. About six years ago.”

Her gaze went to the little girl with the dark curls sleeping soundly behind them.

“Did I know her?”

“You did. She was your friend. Laurel went to school with you and Tommy. Her little sister, Sara, works with me at Verdant.”

“How did it happen?”

The next breath that she took got stuck in her throat. She’d never managed to talk about the accident without crying. Today would be no different.

“There was an accident. Laurel and my mom were driving home from a weekend trip to Boston. It had started snowing right after they’d left and they – they slid off the road and into an embankment. My mom, she died at the scene. Laurel died a few days later, in the hospital.”

Her voice cracked as she spoke. She couldn’t control it, couldn’t keep her hands from trembling or her tears from falling. When Oliver unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled her into his arms, she went willingly. She collapsed against him and choked on a sob. “I’m sorry, Felicity. I remember your mom. Donna was… she was great. Bright and always so happy. Was I here? When it happened?”

She nodded, unable and unwilling to speak.

“I don’t remember,” he confessed quietly.

Felicity moved away, settling into her seat and putting much needed distance between them. She wiped her face with her gloved hands and cast another quick glance at Thea. She was glad they hadn’t woken her.

“There are… there are a lot of things that I wish you could remember, things that you need to remember, Oliver. But the accident that took away two people that I loved? Be thankful that you don’t remember because that is one day of my life that I wish that I could forget.”

A/N 2: I wanted to clear up some confusion from chapter one. Felicity and Tommy are brother and sister, Donna and Malcolm are their parents. They’re not half or step siblings. I had to take liberties with that in order to make the story work the way I wanted it to. The only other familial relationship that I changed is Thea’s, obviously. She is Tommy and Laurel’s daughter rather than being Tommy and Oliver’s half-sister. Did that help? I hope so. And everything about Oliver and Felicity will become clear as the story continues. Enjoy!

#olicity fanfiction #arrow au #lost in the memory fic #some1foundme fic

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